Hallow Notes
by Punjabchild
Summary: Christine Daae, finds herself working in the costume department at the Paris Opera. A lifelong dream of being surrounded by beauty and music soon turns into a nightmare as Christine is caught up in a deadly game of intrigue and murder.
1. Prologue

Hallow Notes

Prologue

The waves crashed against the rocks on the beaches of Perros, but the little girl who sat in the trees by the beach didn't pay much attention to the music of the shores.

No she was more concerned with the song in her heart. She sat among the small trees, her knees curled up to her chest, not caring if her dress was being wrinkled under the grass.

Not caring what anyone else saw or heard or thought, she sat in the shade of the trees, singing out loud.

Her papa had stayed home in the cottage, and she had wandered off to the shore by herself, proud of the fact that her papa trusted her to be alone. She enjoyed these holidays to the sea shore and she loved to sing. Back home, it was proper for little girls to sing out aloud with no one asking them to. She supposed it wasn't proper here either, but at least there were no adults around to scold her.

She was so wrapped up in her song, that she didn't notice the figure that had stood beside her. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see the shadow at her feet. Completely unaware if the person was a friend or foe. A dangerous position for a little girl to be in.

"Excuse me?"

She looked up and was relieved to see that the person watching her was another girl her age. Then she was embarrassed for being interrupted for truth be told, she was very shy.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to stop. I just wanted to tell you…."

The other girl was very pretty, by the far the prettiest girl she had ever seen. She had bright blond curls that looked almost white compared to her own dark blond strands. Her eyes were a deep brown like a piece of chocolate and her skin was pale as the sand. She wore a lovely blue frock of the latest fashion, trimmed with lace and topped with a bonnet to match.

She felt embarrassed at her own clothes. This girl probably was only going to make fun of her for her shabby clothes and obnoxious singing.

"That your voice is beautiful!" the other girl exclaimed.

She looked up in surprise. Surely she was joking.

"I'm a famous singer myself, you know! Well I'm not famous yet but I will be." The other girl chattered on. "My aunts say it's not proper for a girl like me to want to be a singer, but my big brother will let me do anything I want. He lets me have music lessons so I can be an opera singer….in Paris!"

She sat enthralled at the girl's words.

"Your voice is so lovely. Perhaps you should be an opera singer too!"

She blushed. The idea of being a great singer was so foreign to her. She just liked simple music. Still she had to admit to herself it felt nice to be receiving such complements from a stranger. A stranger who was clearly a well born aristocrat.

"Oh I haven't even introduced myself" she exclaimed. "My brothers say I talk to much for my own good anyway." She extended a hand down which was covered in a dainty lace glove. "I'm Genevieve de Chagny, but you can call me Genny. My brothers do. What's your name?"

She starred at the pretty glove on the small hand, trying hard not appear nervous. Finally, she grasped the hand, knowing it as a true sign of friendship.

"Christine…Christine Daae."


	2. Act One: Chapter One

Act One: Orpheus in the Underworld

Chapter One

I had always imagined the passages of the opera, the pristine palace of music to be as grand and breathtaking as the rest of the building. However as I wandered them for the first time, I discovered it was not so.

While the façade of the opera glistened in the Paris sun outside, it's inner workings were dark, cramped, crowded and loud. I touched my hand to the hat on my head, afraid that in such close space, it would strike someone passing by.

I also noticed in my search for the right dressing room that I _was not noticed_. Stagehands, ballerinas and musicians all passed by me without a second glance, though it was clear from my dress and manner that I did not belong in such company. Fine tuxedo jackets with velvet and costumes adorned in lace made my outdated wardrobe seem centuries old, instead of decades. I had already bumped shoulders with a few people who rushed by in such a hurry that they didn't even stop to hear my apology.

Keeping my wits about me, I managed to find my way to the right wing of the backstage maze. I was amazed that in spite of my constant distractions that I hadn't fallen right into a storage closet! The corridor I was looking for belonged to the stars of the opera. A private wing with lavish suites for each principle singer and I had just recently learned that the Opera Populaire boasted more than just one.

There was the well known diva, La Carlotta and the popular tenor, Carlous Fonta. However added to this was a half dozen other performers from mezzos to basses, that shined in roles throughout the opera's repertoire. It was one of these singers that had brought me to this place.

I had always secretly dreamed of one day coming to the opera, but the idea of actually singing here was a pure fantasy. I could remember fondly my dear friend and I talking of becoming great divas when we were children. Now she was on her way to fulfilling that dream.

In my hand I held a letter, the one that had brought me here on my strange journey. I was more than embarrassed to not think of writing to my friend sooner, since I had been living in Paris now for more than five years. I didn't think that now that we were grown that she would want to acknowledge me. So imagine my surprise when I received her letter, full of happiness to reconnect with me and begging me to come to the opera and pursue our childhood dreams together.

I smiled at the thought, but I knew it was hopeless for me. I hadn't gone to school to train as a singer and my voice was badly out of practice. It might have been charming enough when I was a girl, but I grew up and I changed.

Reaching my destination, I boldly knocked on the door, hoping my friend was inside. I didn't trust myself to go on another foray into the twisted passages again. The door open I was greeted with the face of a young woman. She was strikingly beautiful, but still had some of the same features I remembered from those years ago.

She was a few inches taller than me, and I had to look up to meet her gaze. Her face appeared dewy, as if she had just washed it. She was wearing an elegant wrapper of cream and peach silk, and her blond hair fell loose down her back.

However, her lovely face was impassive when she spoke.

"May I help you?" she inquired.

I lowered my eyes. "Pardon me; I was looking for Mademoiselle de Chagny. Is this the right dressing room?" I asked timidly.

"No you are in the right place. So how may I help you?" she informed me. As I looked up, preparing mental on how I was to re-introduce myself, her emotionless face suddenly perked up, and her eyes grew wide.

"Wait…no! Christine? Is that you Christine?" she asked.

A smile was my only answer. She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around my frame in a fierce hug. Now I could tell how much taller she really was as I had to tuck my head under her chin to avoid running into her. A delightful laugh rang from her throat.

"Ah Christine! It is you." She exclaimed. "I'm so glad you came."

I hated to push away, but we certainly couldn't stand in the hallway embracing much longer. "It's good to see you too, Genny" I told her. I was ushered inside to a small room that despite it's size was elegantly furnished. A row of dark trunks in shades of browns and reds were stacked neatly against one wall. Above them hung posters of past productions scattered over the pastel wall paper. A dressing table of golden wood filled one corner, it's table top littered with brushes and cosmetics. Genny took a seat at a small glass table in the middle of the room, and gestured for me to do the same.

"Now Christine Daae, tell the truth. How much longer would you have kept away from the opera if I hadn't written to you first?" she asked.

For some reason I could not take my eyes off a large mirror, stretching the full length of the wall her behind her. It was quite an elegant mirror. "I'm sorry I didn't write to you first, Genny." I apologized. "I wasn't sure if you still even remembered me and I have been busy taking carry of Mamma.. Madame Valerius" I was quick to correct myself from calling my guardian by childhood nickname I had given her

"Oh, Madame Valerius!" Genny's eyes lit up. "Your father spoke of them that last summer on the coast. Are they well? How is your father?" She was so absorbed in her rapid fire of questions that she must not have notice my lips quiver and my eyes drop.

I couldn't blame her. After all, she didn't know.

"Professor Valerius passed away about four years ago… and papa…" I swallowed, trying so hard not to cry. It had been years. "Father died about a year after that. I've been watching over Madame Valerius' household for the past few years. She's been rather sick, but now she seems to doing much better." I added desperate to change the topic.

Genevieve's hands rested over her chest and her eyes were filled with a genuine look of sorrow. "I am glad to hear that Madame Valerius is well." She didn't need to say anymore. Genny and I had both lost our mothers when we were young. Hers in childbirth and my own died when I was just six years old. Her father had also died when she was still very young. With the only paternal figure in her life being two dour aunts, Genny had learned to look up to her eldest brother and adored him like a father.

"Thank you. It's because of Madame Valeius' improving health, that she has allowed me to come to work here at the opera." I informed her, glad to have our conversation move away from sad memories.

Genny gave another laugh of delight. "Oh so you have joined the chorus after all. I knew that's why you came to see me. And it's only a matter of time before you'll have your own dressing room right next to mine!" Genevieve's prattled on in her usual fashion and I raised a hand to interrupt.

"I said I came here to work, but I'm not in the chorus!" I protested with a laugh.

She stopped her demonstration of girlish delight and starred back at me bewildered. "You're not in the chorus?"

I explained to her that I had only just been hired in the last hour. I had applied to the advertisement for dressers at the opera. I meet with Madame LeRoy who I had imagined was a strict matron of a woman, due to the no-nonsense wording of her advertisement. Upon my arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to find an agreeable and well dressed middle age woman. She had been seeking employees outside the usual backgrounds of the working class. She informed me that she was looking for young ladies of certain breeding and manners, ready to assume the responsibilities of caring for the singer's costumes and the independent drive to keep everything in order. I had replied nervously that I didn't have any personal experience of being a ladies maid or anything close to it, but that I was certainly ready to learn.

I thought I would be immediately rejected so it was much to my surprise that I was hired and given a grand tour of the wardrobe department by Madame LeRoy herself.

Genny titled her head and her lips at the same time upon hearing my explanation. "Well, if that suits you Christine, but I am determined to get you into the chorus. I'll have to pull some strings to get you an audition you know. The opera is under new management."

"I didn't know that?"

"Oh yes, Debienne and Poligny resigned and we are having a gala send off for them before we open this dreadful new opera." She intoned, twisting a curl in her fingers.

"What is the opera?" I asked. I never knew Genny to be so particular to music before.

"Orpheus and the Underworld. Offenbach, a comedic operetta of all things. Apparently the new managers want to make the season more appealing to the common man, who can't afford to buy tickets to the opera as it is. Why would people want to go to the opera to listen to music they can find in a dance hall?" she grumbled.

"What role are you singing?"

Her mood immediately changed. "Diana! The virgin goddess," she struck a pose "but I get to be such a wicked flirt!" Even I had to giggle at that.

"You won't have to do much acting then." I pointed out.

"My my, Christine Daae, you've grown a tongue! How inconsiderate of you to tease me like that." She joked, walking over to a large vase of flowers.

"How are your brothers? I hope they are in as good spirits as you are." I asked.

"Philippe is just as stubborn as he's always been." She said, flicking her thumb against the newly open petals of a white rose. "Oh but that's right you've never met Philippe. But Raoul, oh Raoul he will be so excited to see you again!"

My cheeks went red at the thought. My childhood friend had grown so beautiful and confident since we were children. I could not imagine the changes that had happen to her older brother, Raoul.

_The Vicomte de Chagny_, I reminded myself.

"I don't even think he remembers me." I said truthfully.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I'm looking for a beat reader to help with spelling and grammar. Please PM me if you are interested!<p> 


	3. Act One: Chapter Two

I stayed busy over the next few days. I confessed I was eager to learn but I had no idea how _much there was to learn._ First there were the inner workings of the opera's vast wardrobe department. . The existence of the many cellars beneath, five as I was informed, fascinated me There were thousands of costumes already owned, many that were in storage in the third cellars. That didn't include the dozen of new ones being made for the new production. Madame LeRoy was not just a simple wardrobe mistress. She was overseer of every and any aspects of costuming at the opera; from seamstresses making new costumes to the laundry department. On top of that, she was also designing the new costumes for _Orpheus_.

She earned my respect for not only being a powerful woman, but mostly for her attentive consideration as I adjusted to my new job. During my first few days of work, she took great care and attention to get me situated and comfortable in my position.

I was also aided by Genny, who took it upon herself to introduce me into her social circle at the opera. It came as no surprise how popular she was. She was friends with the principle ballerina, La Sorelli, most of the male vocalists, members of the orchestra and the young girls of the corps de ballet. The ballet girls were especially fond of her, finding a cozy sanctuary in Genny's dressing room to laugh and gossip.

Rehearsals started later that week. I spent less time with Genny and her friends, as the artists and the crew were separated by their work. I could hear the chorus while I sat in the sewing room, hemming skirts. The music of the principle singers joining their voices in the Gallop made a raucous noise that I could hear in the costume storage areas under the stage.

After rehearsals, Genny filled me in on the day's events, without prompting. She took delight in discussing the over the top behavior of the diva La Carlotta. Carlotta was playing the role of Eurydice, an important role capturing both the hearts of Pluto, Orpheus, and Jupiter. However she was upset with having to share any amount of stage time with the other two sopranos, Madame Emeraude with the lead role of Public Opinion and Genny in the role of the playful goddess, Diana.

"Today she demanded M. Gabriel change the libretto to make Eurydice a goddess. Poor Gabriel stumble to explain that there wasn't a logical place in the libretto to causally announce that Eurydice was a goddess. Unless he wrote a new line, music and everything." She recounted, fixing her hat before getting ready to leave for the day.

"What happened after that?" I asked.

"Carlotta's face went as red as her hair. She starting cursing in Italian, and flinging her music about. Even M. Fonta could not settle her down. She muttered how Offenbach was a half wit and if we changed the libretto, no one would care if it was right." Genny gaily repeated in a tone and accent that mocked the diva's own.

My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten anything that day. So I spoke to cover the noise. "Is she always that testy?"

"Christine, she is like this all the time!" she laughed. "She couldn't stand the fact that my character is a goddess, even though she has the leading role. Mme. Emeraude became so annoyed that she started to tease her. She told her that our audience would know the plot and know that there is no such 'goddess Eurydice'. Carlotta stated our audiences were buffoons and stormed out!" Genny continued to chuckle, but I didn't find it very amusing.

"Sorry, but I find it rather shocking for a lady to behave that way." I admitted. Genny grabbed my hand and gave it a little squeeze.

"Don't worry Christine. You are not the only one who thinks so. It is best to keep your distance when it comes to _La Diva_." Genny checked the mirror once more. "Ride home with me today Christine."

"That's not necessary. You know I live so close…"

She pulled on my hand and flashed me a smile. "Ride with me anyway!" she exclaimed in a childlike manner. I agreed and gathered my things to leave. Genny turned to lock the door to her dressing room. "The only reason we put up with Carlotta is because she draws in the crowds…" she muttered as a final explanation. We made our way down the hall, but only after a few steps she stopped. She turned to me, all the childish expression gone from her lovely face.

"But she won't always…" she said in a hallow tone.

"Genny?" I was confused.

"She won't always draw in the crowds. One day people will finally tired of her and it will be_ me_ they come to see on stage. _Me_. Soon I will be the prima donna."

I looked around, a little embarrassed in case anyone could have overheard us. Genny's brown eyes look hazy as she spoke and once more she reached for my hands, her grip tight.

"I have been promised it." She pulled me by my hands closer to her. "Don't worry Christine. Soon they will come to see you as well."

I tighten my shawl around my shoulders and thanked the driver one last time, before the de Chagny carriage took off. I opened the door to Madame Valerius' home, looking forward to nothing more than a warm fire and decent meal. I hadn't yet received a wage and had no money of my own to buy lunch while I worked. I had dreaded someone overhearing my stomach's grotesque growls and discovering my secret.

I was delighted to feel the heat of the fire gently touch my face as I walked inside. "Good evening Madame." I called out.

"Christine?" I heard her soft voice called from the sitting room. I eagerly made my way there, smiling to see my kind guardian sitting in her favorite evening chair. Madame had been unwell for so long. A rare summer cold had seized her body in the past few months, confining her to her bed. So I was very glad to see her in better health and spirits.

A large grey blanket covered her legs. I noticed a knitting basket on the floor near her chair and a set of needles in her lap. Her eyes were far too weak to do any sort of embroidery or needlework anymore. I was rewarded with a smile when I entered.

"Ah Christine. Good evening." She greeted. I longed so much to collapse in the chair beside her. We could talk about our day until out eyes grew heavy and we both feel asleep by the fire.

"Good evening Christine." echoed a voice from behind me.

I went tense as soon as I heard it. The hands that now curled their way up onto my shoulder could certain feel how rigid my limbs were underneath. All my joy and happiness was sucked out of me in that moment.

I hadn't really wanted to work away from home. I would have been content to spend lazy days here in this quiet home, free of responsibility. But I couldn't. I had to keep away from this house as much as possible and the real reason for this was standing right behind me.

The hands on my shoulders closed around them tightly.

"My, Christine you are freezing." Frederich remarked in a tone that disguised his true intent. "You should really be wearing warmer clothes at this time of year." He finally walked around to face me. He extended his hand to me, hoping I take it, but he knew better. "Perhaps I could take you shopping for a new coat tomorrow." He offered.

"No thank you." I told him, my eyes averted from the lusty gaze I knew was upon me. He moved his hand forward and I took a step back. With his back towards Madame, blocking her view, he lunged forward and snatched my hand. He crushed it, as punishment for not taking it in the first place. I cringed.

"Come and sit with us Christine." He whispered.

The only negative side to Madame Valerius' wonderful generosity is that it extended to everyone, including the sinister man that stood before me. Frederich had been disowned by his parents. Their reasons were justified in the fact that their son drank and gambled away every sou they gave to him. His father turned him out on the street after being expelled from boarding school. Frederich somehow managed to steal money away from his parents. His father suddenly became ill and died, and Frederich kept attempting to swindle and steal more money from his now widowed mother. He had once bragged to me that it was almost a total of 50,000 francs.

Within a year of his father's death, he had gambled and spent all of his money. He came calling on his aunt, my guardian, down on his luck. He was a very good actor. The years of him conning his parents and friends had given him ample amount of time to practice. Madame Valerius took him in, giving him free run of the house. He had access to her savings and took anything he wanted.

He had made my life hell since he first came to this house. I could think of several names to call him. I could think of vile curses to shout at him. I could even imagine his death, and in what grisly manner it would occur.

These thoughts of mine frightened me.

At the opera, I was free. Free from looking around corners, free of leering glances. I worked to escape. But I always had to return.

Frederich release his grip and snaked around my side to take a spot by the warm and welcoming fire. His long arm stretched out over the mantel piece. Madame Valerius smiled, obliviously.

"Shall I call for Michelle to fetch you some coffee, Christine?" she offered

"Or perhaps some supper as well." Frederich remarked his eyes slanted under heavy lids as he addressed me. "Because I'm correct to assume…you haven't eat all day." He added.

I felt my stomach shake at the mention of food. I had rushed out this morning without any breakfast. I had only to glance into the dining area to see Frederich spread out enjoying his meal. It was a quick and easy decision to skip food to avoid whatever mean spirited words or abuses he had in store for me.

Even though my body desperately craved for something to eat, my will was stronger.

"Actually I'm not feeling too well at the moment. And I'm not hungry." I lied. "Perhaps it is the cold air. I think I should just retire for the evening."

Madame Valerius gave me a look of concern and stopped her knitting. "Are you ill, Christine? Perhaps you should have something to eat first." She insisted

"No, I'm just very tired." I explained trying to force a smile. "I'm just not use to all the hard work, I guess."

That seemed to satisfy her. She returned to her knitting. "If you say so, Christine. Have a good night rest dear."

"Thank you. Good evening Madame." I turned curtly to Frederich, in an attempt to be polite in front of my guardian. "Good night monsieur."

He smiled. "Good night, Christine."

I didn't waste any time exiting from the room. I hadn't even had time to take off my hat and I tugged it from my head as I made my way towards the stairs. As I past the doorway that lead into the dining room, I noticed the door to the kitchen was propped open. Michelle our cook had retired by this time, but always left a small candle in the pantry so we could help ourselves if we needed to. I noticed through the open doorway a bowl of fruit next to the candle.

Swiftly I walked over to it. There were mostly apples and a few pears. I palmed an apple and tucked the hand into the folds of my skirt. I turned to leave and ran into a hard body directly behind me. Its shadow blocked both the light from the hall and the one inside the kitchen.

_Frederich._

"I thought you said you weren't hungry Christine." He remarked smugly.

My mouth went dry as I tried to find words to defend myself. If I ever screamed for help, he would be quick to deny it. His words ran much smoother than mine. He knew of this advantage, and took delight in my stunned silence.

"I wasn't…I only…thought." I stammered. His hand reached down to the one that held the apple. His thick fingers encased my own and he brought both hands up into plain sight. He kept bringing them closer, turning them around so my fingers faced him as he pulled them to his lips.

His tongue slid out and crudely licked my fingertips. I jerked back dropping the apple as I did so.

"Frederich, I am working hard to pay my way around here!" I said boldly, hoping my raised voice would at least alert Madame on the other side of the house. "I don't need to depend completely on your aunt's generosity, so if you don't want me to have any food from this kitchen, just say so."

I pushed both my hands at his chest to make my way around him. Normally this would have done no good, for Frederich was far stronger than me. Only this time, he laughed at my actions and step out of the way himself. I charged out and up the stairs, but I didn't even make it to the first landing, before I felt Frederich's hand again on my own. He pulled hard and I fell back against him. The force he used could have knocked us both over. I gave a small cry and was instantly silenced by his other hand covering my mouth.

It stank of whiskey and tobacco. It felt dirty against my lips. I wanted to bite it, but I already knew that fighting back would make things worse for me.

"Christine…" he whispered. His brow was buried against my hair and his lips touched my ear as he spoke. "You are being such a silly girl." He heaved. "Everything in my house is at your disposal if you are willing to pay for it."

His free hand left my month and slapped against my right breast. Pain and shame burned through me as he slapped it again than squeezed it hard.

"Please…." I pleaded.

He murmured something incoherent into my hair.

"Please let me go Frederich. I will tell Madame." I whispered my only threat.

I felt the blood rush back to my hand and arm as he released it. I tore away from his grip and only looked back when I heard a loud crunch. Frederich was leaning against the wall, a smile on his face and the apple in hand with a large chunk missing.

He wiped his lips. "For now Christine…for now."

I didn't look back until I heard the familiar sound of my own door shutting and the click of the lock.

My back against the door and my arms spread behind me, I wept despite all my stubborn command to stop. My face was hot and every tear dripping down felt like steam upon me. Normally I would try to stifle my cries, but I was now too upset to care if I was overheard. My hands flew to my jacket; avoiding the spot where I had been handled as if it might burn me. I flung it into the corner. I managed to pull myself up to my feet and make the few steps over to my dresser. There was still water left in the basin and I splashed the cool liquid onto my face again and again. Anything to make the sting of tears go away. Finally I collapsed on my bed, my throat hoarse from crying.

The walls of my room were covered in bookcases, each one stuffed full with volumes of every subject. Madame's last husband, the professor was a great music scholar as well as man who knew the priceless value of books. Many happy hours were spent in his study reading books in quite company. All that had changed when Frederich had come to live here.

Not content with any of the other spare rooms, he set his sights on the Professor's study, moving in his possessions and causally tossing other things out. At that time Madame was bedridden with another bout of illness and couldn't protest. But I did. I collected the books and challenged him about his actions. I was braver then.

He coyly remarked that this was the finest room in the house and he as part of the family was entitled to it. Even then he had turned his attentions to me as the Professor's study was right next to my room. So I moved all the books and myself up to an attic chamber. It lacked the space and the lovely windows, but it had something my old room did not.

A lock.

I fingered the key to my room that I kept hidden in a deep pocket of my skirt. As far as I knew, I had the only copy. Madame had gotten better, but because of her age she remained on the bottom floor of the house. There she slept, ate and passed her time. She had no idea what went on above her head or behind her back.

My body longed for sleep but in my mind, the morning could not come soon enough. I would leave at dawn if I had too. Anything to get out of this room, away from this house.

Away from him.

My arm snaked underneath my bed, pushing aside the blankets to reach the floor. I didn't stop until they found their way to one of my most treasured possessions. Carefully I opened the battered case and removed my father's violin.

Years ago, when Genny and I were still children, my father gave violin lesson to Raoul, the young vitcome. During the summer, the de Chagny would visit the Valerius's cottage. My father went off with Raoul to practice violin, while the Professor accompanied Genny and I on the piano, teaching us all the words to the great operas. Yet I remember one evening coming to my father's room to complain that I had been his daughter all my life and he had never once offered to teach me to play the violin.

He had laughed at my remarked, but he did not mock me. He knew that even though my true gift was my voice, I should be allowed to study the other musical arts. So every day after our lessons and our supper, I would join in his room and cradling me in his lap, he taught me to play.

I was eager to learn but still unfortunately unskilled. My father's violin was too long for my short hands and the strings hurt my fingers. I cried one time because I cut myself on them. He cleaned my wound and then in a very serious manner, placed my hands up against my face.

"_Can you feel your fingers against you skin, Christine?" he asked._

I nodded then he pulled down my hands and pressed his fingers into my small palm.

"_Now feel mine. Can you feel the difference?"_

"_Yes my hands are soft, but yours are not Papa. Your fingertips are hard...like stone."_

"_That is why your fingers hurt. Mine have been so use to playing the violin that they have become rough and hard." he explained. _

He pulled me into a warm embrace.

"_If you wish to become a great musician my daughter, you will have to learn to make sacrifices. You voice will run dry sometimes. Your fingers will crack and bleed.. But if you are truly devoted to your music, if you truly have passion, you will find these things will no longer matter after awhile. They will become a part of you and a part of your music."_

Now, I raised the violin to my chin and slowly brought the bow down. I played one of the few songs I could remember from my childhood. A lullaby my father would sing to me. After a few weak repeated strains, I began to sing as well as play.

New tear found their way across my face and I gave up. I could sing that lullaby but what comfort could it bring me now. I heard my voice all day. I wanted to hear his voice again. Hear his music.

Instead I had to content myself with my pathetic soft scratching on his violin


	4. Act One: Chapter Three

"Oh Madame LeRoy!" Genny gasped. The dressing room seemed full of white pleats and soft fold of fabric. Genny twirled about on a small stool as one of the seamstress and Madame Leroy surveyed their work.

"It is absolutely beautiful" she exclaimed, running her hands up and down the sides of her gown. "You have truly out done yourself this time." I was certain that Genevieve knew more about opera costumes than I did, since I have never worn one. I had to agree with her opinion that the seemingly simple Grecian gown appeared stunning draped over Genevieve's petite frame. The neckline draped low and the arms were left bare. While the other performers had stoles and mantles of different colors placed over their shoulders, Genny's costume had only folds of light gold draped from her arm, attached with small ties at her elbows and wrists. They seemed to glide like wings as she moved them about.

Already, It had been a busy morning for me. I was just finishing up the last round of costumes fittings before the opera started it's week long ordeal of dress rehearsals. I had been following Madame Leroy from each dressing room, handing out garments, taking notes and holding pins as they examined, pulled and marked each cosutme for a precise fit. Afterward, I carefully labeled the costumes and noted the alternation needing to be made before placing them on a convenient rolling clothes rack that followed us from room to room. What had been convenient at the start was now becoming a heavy burden with each new costume added. Thankfully Genny's fitting was the last one before lunch.

"Ah but you haven't seen the best part, Mlle. De Chagny." Madame pointed out, reaching into a pocket of the large apron she worn around her fashionable dress. She withdrew a small box and gestured for both Genny and myself to come in for a closer look. She opened it and brought out a small gold bracelet.

Genny peered down, examining it. It was a simple gold bracelet from first appearance, until Madame fingered the clasp to open it. We both gasped to see that the bracelet snapped open and close by a spring in the shape of the head of a deer. The deer head was sleek, with large antlers curved into the sides near the clasp.

"I've seen bracelets in this style with lion's heads before but I've never seen anything like this." Genny noted

"It's a stag, the symbol of the goddess Diana." I pointed out.

Madame LeRoy smiled at me. "Correct Christine. You must know your mythology well."

Classical mythology was not a subject expected to be knowledgeable among ladies like myself. "I confess I do enjoy reading the classics." I admitted. Among the collection of books left behind by the late Professor Valerius, there were works of Greek philosophy and history, as well as music. Over the years, I had made the time to read most, if not all of them.

"I know a jeweler over on the Rue de Marquee who is more than willing to loan me a piece for the opera in return for publicity. I had seen bracelets with lion's head in his shop and inquired if he was interested in the challenge of making one with a stag's head instead." she turned an admiring eye to the bracelet as she clipped it over Genny's wrists. "I think from your approving reaction ladies, he did his job well."

Genny raised her arms and then turned to admire her entire outfit in the mirror on her wall. Besides her virginal white gown, she also wore a gold headpiece with a short veil. The headpiece was in the shape of a crescent moon, another symbol of Diana.

I smiled. My friend had grown into an exceptionally beautiful woman. She looked lovely in almost any garment, but in this outfit, she looked absolutely stunning. In that moment, I felt a tinge of jealously. It would be wonderful to trade places with her. To be dressed in beautiful gowns instead of having to dress others in them. The bracelet was the finishing touch. I couldn't even imagine having the ability or position to wear a custom made piece of jewelry.

As if she knew my thoughts, Genny removed the bracelet and slipped it on my own wrist. I was shocked, but she only smiled, examining the bangle that rested upon my skin

The other two women excused themselves, while I helped Genny undress. Despite being being brought up in a household full of servants, Genny considered herself very independent and went out of her way to exhibit it. I hadn't even hooked the costume back on its hanger, when she was already half way dressed again in her street clothes. Her hands fumbled at the buttons on her back, all the while muttering in frustration.

I had to laugh. "Let me help you." I effortlessly hooked the buttons together, and now even Genny chuckled. She proceeded to brush out her hair and style it.

"Christine, you do remember the stories your father told us when we were children?" she asked. I nodded. "Do you remember the one of Little Lotte?"

I looked at her face in the mirror, not quite sure what brought on this line of questioning. "Of course"

"Tell it to me." She pleaded

It took me a moment, but the words came back to me, as familiar as if they had been the words to my nightly prayers.

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden as the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheeled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes….."

Genny interrupted me. "Oh course now I remember. You know Christine, Raoul told me back when we were still young that you reminded him of Little Lotte."

"Me? Not really." I protested. Genny had be strikingly beautiful went she was a child. I was no comparison to her then or now.

"Of course. You had such lovely blue eyes when you were little. I was always jealous of them." She gestured up to her face and her narrow brown eyes. "They are still lovely." She added.

"And her fiddle, but most of all loved, when she went to sleep to hear the angel of music." I finished. *

Genny put her brush down and stared blankly into the mirror. "I wanted to be Lotte, every time I heard that story. Not just because I wanted blue eyes…" she glanced sideways at me. "Or a father who could play the violin." She added with a smile. "No it was because I wanted to hear the Angel of Music. I thought how lucky little Lotte must have been to be visited by the angel"

"I'll admit, I thought the same thing." I offered. That was the truth.

Turning quickly in her chair to face me, she clasped both of my hands. "Then Christine, since we are such dear friends, I can share with you my wonderful secret." Her brown eyes were bright and her face seemed to glow as a blush of excitement rose to her cheeks. "I have been visited by the angel."

I blinked in disbelief and that one small gesture seemed to upset her.

"You don't believe, but I tell you it is true. I started to hear his voice a few months ago, here in my dressing room."

_His voice._ I raised my eyebrows in puzzlement. "His voice? The Angel of Music is a man?" I asked.

"No, he is an angel" she emphasized. "He only has the voice of a man, and oh Christine, what an enchanting and beautiful voice it is!"

She stood up and walked to the center of the room in a daze. As if she was reliving a memory. "He spoke to me here. Yet I could not see him. When I realized there was no one in my room or outside the door, I was frightened. He promised me he would instruct me to become a great singer. Then I asked him if he were the Angel of Music."

She paused and raised her fingers to her lips, a nervous habit of hers. "There was no answer, and I thought that my question was too bold and that he had left disgusted with me. But at last, he answered in that masterful voice of his 'Yes my child I am the Angel of Music' He told me he was sent from heaven to teach me not only to sing, but to make me a star. So he calls to me while I am in my dressing room and gives me voice lessons. I heard music around us as I sing, sometimes a violin accompanying me. Sometime, he joins in with his own voice, which is a wonder to hear. He promised me one day I would be the prima donna, if only I obeyed his instructions."

"What instructions?" I asked with both curiosity and concern.

"That I devote myself only to music. I could not be lazy or idle. I should respect my teacher by not seeing any men or seeking out any relationships."

"That seems very strict demands."I pointed out. _Are you sure he is an angel?_ The question was on my lips but I did not speak it.

"Yes, but the sacrifice is worth it. And I promised not to tell anyone about him." She said listlessly, adding this information as an afterthought.

My head shaking in confusion, I blurted out. "But you just told me about him!"

Genny simple shrugged her shoulders and smiled at me. "Of course I did. But you already knew of the angel of music, Christine. I could only tell the people I trusted. You'll keep my secret" She explained. "And I have told the Angel of Music about you Christine. I have told him of your voice and your gift for music. The angel assured me that you too can become a great singer if you devote yourself completely to music. Only then will he appear to you."

I could have augured that the angel of music was just a story, but the way Genny explained this mysterious encounter fascinated me. I had believed in the angel as a child, when I still believed in foolish dreams. Even my dear father had promised me on his death bed that I would be touched by this heavenly power.

"_When I am in heaven, Christine, I will send the Angel of Music to you."_

But I had lost so much faith in many things since then. I no longer believed in angel or the power of stories. Genny obviously still believed. I recalled one of our earlier conversations.

"_I have been promised it."_

"Come Christine." Genny tugged at my arm. In a moment she had gone from her trance like explanation of the angel back to her busy self. "I'm taking you out to lunch. And don't try to refuse."

I removed the bracelet. I tucked the bracelet back inside its box and placed it in one of the drawers on the vanity. "I have to put the costumes away first." I explained.

"I'll help you but we must hurry. We only have an hour before rehearsal starts up again." So we gathered out purses and hat and locked the door as we left. For some reason I felt overly worried about the bracelet and double checked to see if the door was locked. It would upset me if anything happened to it. Genny grabbed the back end of the rolling rack and pushed it along with me as I guide it back to the costume department. A leading soprano and a costume girl, pulling a heavy rack together and laughing all the while.

What an odd looking pair we made.

#

I did all my tasks for the evening without any concern on how long they would take me. I carefully collected each robe, tunic, stole and laurel wreath scattered about the stage. If my situation had been any different, I would have felt upset having to do this large task all by myself.

But for now I was grateful. Grateful to be here instead of at Madame Valerius' house. In the empty space of the opera and its grand auditorium, I could be alone with my thoughts.

I could be alone in my room, but my thoughts would only turn to my door. Was it locked? Did Frederich have a key? Could he come in while I slept?  
>Here I was free of such thoughts. Most of the artists had retired to their homes. The chorus and other staff either emptied out into the bars and cafes around the opera or shut themselves away in their dormitories for the night.<p>

As I returned to the stage for my final round of collections, I suddenly began to notice that I didn't hear the far away shutting of doors or the scuffles of feet. For once in the busy and grand palace of music, it was actually quite. I noticed the shepherd's crook used by Aristée was laying down stage left, leaning over the orchestra pit. I picked it up then used it to carry the remaining laurel wreaths and bits of ribbon that had fallen from unfinished costumes. Loose threads that had been snapped and cut from hems littered the stage floor. The only thing left now to do was sweep.

I paused for a moment and looked out into the empty auditorium. Soon my work would be done, and I would have to leave. But for a moment, I was alone on stage. I was the star of my own private opera. Papa had always dreamed I would be a great singer one day. That one day I would make him proud.

I guess this would be as close as I would come to that dream.

With a small jump in my step, I made my way over to another discarded wreath and sang the lines from the Transformation Scene from the first act.

"It's not so bad when the God of Death is in love with you"

I smiled as I sang. Genny had been right. The plot for this opera was rather silly. Maybe Carlotta's rants had been justified. That the plot was so ridiculous that if they changed it no one would notice. I leaned down to pick up the wreaths, thrusting my breath from my midsection to push the final notes out. I finished hooking the wreath around the crook then swinging it around in giddy triumph.

_Clap._

I turned to the direction of the noise, assuming it was just another sound echoing from backstage. Perhaps it was the mysterious trap door men, who I had seen sulking about the shadow, constantly opening and shutting the opera's many doors. There was a sound of another clap, then another. My hearing had not been clear the first time. The sound was coming from the auditorium. It continued.  
>It was not just an empty noise, caused by a door or creaking floor. It was the sound of someone actually applauding, slowly and methodically.<p>

"Well done, Persephone..."

The voice seemed to speak right in my ear. It was a deep and enchanting sound. I gasped and dropped the shepherd's crook. It fell to the floor with a horrible noise. I starred out into the dark space, dazed for I knew that the clapping had come from in front of me, but the voice seemed to issue from somewhere behind me. As if the person speaking were standing over my shoulders.

A quick glance around my shoulder assured me that I was alone. I could feel a red hot blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. Someone had heard me singing! I felt embarrassed and frightened, for I did not know who the voice belonged to.

There was silence for a moment. No clapping, no whispers and defiantly no singing. I crouched down to pick up the fallen crook and placed a hand to my head. Perhaps I had just dreamed it? It was a beautiful voice that had spoken that simple sentence. Almost too beautiful to be real.

Persephone...

I stood again and took a few steps towards the edge of the stage. Looking out into the darkness, I spoke in an even tone. "Eurydice. Eurydice is the one who sings that." I felt confident but at the same time foolish. If there was no one there, who was I trying to impress with my knowledge.

"But it was Persephone who was the goddess of the underworld. She was the wife of Hades." the voice called back.

I jumped and then looked down into the orchestra pit. Perhaps the voice was coming from there. However there were no lamps left on in the pit below my feet, and even though I was so close, I could not see clearly.

It was not a dream.

"Who's there?" I called out. I gripped the crook in my hands, ready to defend myself. "Please show yourself!"

"According to the myth, the goddess of spring was kidnapped by the god of death. But his intentions were not evil. He only brought her to the underworld out of love." the voice elegantly explained.

My back was rigid and my mind raced to think of the nearest door to leave. I started to retreat.

"Mademoiselle wait!" it called. I should have ignored it but I stopped. "Like Hades, my intentions are good. Please stay."

I turned around, glancing at the darken corridors and wings that lead off stage. "Then please, tell me where you are?"

"Where did you learn to sing like that?" the voice asked.

I was no close to learning the position of the voice then when it had first spoke to me. So I directed my answers toward the center of the stage. "My father taught me music. I've sung since I was a child."

"You are not in the chorus." It was more of a statement than a question.

"No..." My head titled up. I had remembered the intricate catwalks and ropes above my head. I has seen the scene shifters and stagehand gilded about them with such ease. Perhaps the voice was hiding up there.

I squinted to see above me but there was not enough light. I pulled my chin back down and out of the corner of my eye; I saw a dark shadow move. It was black enough to stand out even in the darkness. My gaze made its way to the grand tier boxes that hung on the sides of the auditorium.

And then I saw him.

The outline of a figure in one of the boxes to my left. With my limited access to light, I could only make out that it was a tall body of a man, wrapped in a dark coat. I felt my stomach drop and my instinct cried out to run away. Anyone who would be hiding in an opera box at night certainly did not have any_ good intentions_.

"Why are you not in the chorus?" the beautiful voice started to sound upset.

I swallowed hard. "I'm not good enough." I managed to gasp out. "I'm only a dresser."

Even though I couldn't not see the man's face, I felt his eyes burrowing into me. I could imagine him frowning at my weak response.

"Have you ever wanted to be a great singer, Persephone?" he asked.

I knew that I could lie to him. I sense that he could tell if I was. "Yes, but I suppose everyone in my situation does. I dreamed of being an opera singer as a little girl..." Now I frowned, thinking back to the fond memories of meeting Genny at the seashore, and being allowed into her home to sing and play the piano. Memories of my father accompanying us on his violin and telling us ghost stories.

"But I grew up."

"It is not too late, mademoiselle. There is no time when dreams cease to become real." the voice answered softly, as if he could feel the pain I felt at the memories of my father.

Who was this man behind the shadows, speaking of gods and dreams?

"I'm afraid you are wrong there, monsieur. There is no time for dreams to come true ever." I told him defiantly. "That's why they are called dreams." I turned on my heels to go, trying to disguise my eagerness to leave. Moments ago, I felt happy in the only place I could be alone. The one place I felt could be mine if only for an hour or two as I finished my work. A place free of judgmental thoughts and peering eyes. Now I had been caught prancing and singing to myself like a child. I felt like I was being mocked by a man who obviously must work at the opera. He was probably a member of the chorus himself, looking forward to tomorrow when he could laugh at me to my face.

My eyes were growing wet. I just wanted to leave.

"Meet me here tomorrow evening. Give me a chance to prove you wrong." he called out to me.

I jerked my head around. "How?" I could already feel the tears coming down my cheeks and I quickly tried to wipe them off.

"I didn't mean to make you upset. I only wanted to help you." his voice was now soft. "If you would only let me. I could train your voice."

"Believe me, if I had the means to have my voice trained, I would have done so years ago." I was surprised at the anger rising in my voice. I had told myself time and time again that I was happy with my position and that my desires to be a singer were nothing more than a childhood fantasy. Genny had even stopped pestering me about it. Now this stranger had upset me to the point that I was losing control of my emotions. "I couldn't afford singing lessons. I couldn't get into a conservatory. I couldn't even think of having a career in music. And I don't want to get my hopes up again."

Here I was on an empty stage, crying and pouring over my regrets. While a stranger in the shadows watched and listened.

"I will give you singing lessons...for free."

I ran. "If this is your idea of a joke..." I called behind my shoulder, but I was too upset to finish. I tossed the crook with the wreaths into a bin in the wings. I would just come to work early the next day to finish cleaning. For now I had to get away. Not just from the man in the shadows...

But from myself.

My boots stomped against the floor as I stormed out, and the voice called out over the sound.

"Goodnight Persephone."


	5. Act One: Chapter Four

Upon my return to the opera the next morning, I was determined to make myself forget the events of last night. However, as soon as I stepped onstage to help with the dress rehearsal, I felt again the upsetting emotions come over me. And that voice kept echoing inside my head.

Persephone...

I made an extra effort to help the members of the men chorus find their costume pieces in the wings, all the while listening intently to see if I could pick out the voice I had heard the night before. The hushed tone it had and the words he had used made it sound other worldly. It was indeed a masterful voice and I was now starting to doubt if it had been someone playing a joke. It seemed to serious to be used in that manner.

By noon, and after hours of endless singing, I had determined the voice had not belonged to one of the singers. M Gabriel called for an early lunch. Since the other costume girls were off in the wings, gossiping and otherwise not pay attention to their duties, I made my best effort to quickly collect pieces from the performers. I thought hard of anyone else in the company who would have known that I would have been alone in the opera last night. I could only remember telling Genny, who was upset with me for working too hard. Also Madame LeRoy knew and perhaps some of the other costume girls, grateful it wasn't them stuck with the drudge work.

Carolus Fonta handed me his purple stole from around his waist before going to his dressing room. He flashed me a small smile and then winked at me. I was taken aback, since M. Fonta had barely taken notice of me before. Could he have been the voice?

No I had seen him leave last night. That I could recall. And besides, what would a lead tenor be doing hanging in the shadows of an opera box to frighten girls like me.

More hours of rehearsal passed. Opening night was only four days away. Full dress rehearsal started the next evening which would be even more work for me to do. The night ended the same as the last, and even before everyone was dismissed I was frantically gathering costumes and accessories and rushing them back.

I was upset that I was being driven to work faster to avoid being in the presence of the voice again. I had been looking forward to this time as one of refuge, away from the abuses that awaited me at home. However throughout the day as I worried about the night and the voice, my anxiety had changed into something else. My anger had turned into fear. I was dreading the voice's return.

The lights in the auditorium, which were only half lit during the rehearsals, were slowly being shut off one by one as I made my rounds. I could hear in the distance the sound of doors shutting. This night I had to soak any stoles, handkerchief or cloth that the performers had used in a light bath to remove any sweat. There were also the green and gold laurel wreaths that I needed to clean by hand.

I counted the wreaths in the costume area making sure I had the right number. I carefully ran a cloth over each leaf and stacked them together, along with the elaborate crowns of Jupiter, Pluton and the other gods. As I started to remove the stoles and mantles from the water, I could tell right away something was missing. Looking at the sea of purples and blues, wet in my hands, I knew in a moment what it was.

Eurydice's stole. Carlotta had been wearing her long stole throughout most of the rehearsals. As soon as the piece was finished, she insisted on wearing it. A bright fuchsia fabric, trimmed in gold it stood out among the other costumes. There would be hell to pay if I didn't clean that one.

With an exasperated sigh, I made my way down to La Carlotta's dressing room. It was locked and I cursed my bad luck as I pulled the handle. Her maid must have taken it inside. The diva was the only performer to have a personal maid, as well as her own dresser on the company payroll. I walked back to the stage on the off chance it might still be left there. Even in my rush to gather the costumes, I did not remember taking it from Carlotta or her maid.

The stage was now half lit as well. The stagehands must have figured all the work was done for the evening. I looked out and saw a chair at center stage. It was the one Carlotta used in rehearsal to sit during breaks in singing. But I was sure it had not been left like that after rehearsals ended. Laying across the back was the fuchsia stole.

I shook my head, knowing there was no way I could have walked by that. As I made my way to center stage, I reasoned perhaps I was so nervous about the voice and getting my work done that I had walked right past it.

"No song for me, Persephone?" the voice asked.

I froze midway between the wings and the chair that the mantle rested on. I looked up at the grand tier box where I had seen the shadow the night before. No one was there.

"Mademoiselle..." it called again, and now I could hear the direction it was coming from. It wasn't like last night when I swore it was had whispered in my ear. I turned my head and saw the man in the shadows standing in the center of the stalls.

Even with the lack of light, I could see him more clearly now. He was making no effort to hide himself.

The first impression I took in of him was his height. He was very tall even at a distance. He wore a dark overcoat, with black buttons that I could see reflect some of the light behind me. A streak of white appeared from under his collar, which was large and covered most of his face. He started to take a step closer.

I held out my hands. "Who are you?" I wanted to shout this but my voiced died in my throat, leaving me with the volume of a whisper

"I believe the question should be..." he started to reach up his hands over his collar, slowly pulling it down. "Who are you...Christine Daae?"

It was no face that greeted me. It was a mask.

A black mask covered his face from his forehead to the bottom of his nose. It was stiff and lifeless, but the eyes behind it were not. Two orbs of deep gold stared back at me intently. They shined like the eyes of a cat. I could hear my heart pound against my rib cage. What man had eyes like that? What man wore a mask?

"What is a girl with the voice of an angel doing scrubbing costumes?" he continued in that strange masterful voice "What girl waits in the shadows while others pretend to be gods and fools on stage." By now he had reached the side of the orchestra pit. "You didn't answer my question from last night. Not sufficiently anyway. Why are you not in the chorus, Christine?"

My mind felt scattered but my body stayed still. "Go away, please." I begged. "I told you…"

"You told me that you were not good enough. Yet your voice betrays you." He continued. "If you had no faith in your voice, then you would never be caught singing. You seemed to enjoyed yourself when you sang, but now confronted with the truth, you insist on denying your talent."

He was leaning against the wall of the pit. Long arms stretched out to his side, the hands at the end covered in white gloves. He starred at me, a look of calm in his eyes. As if we had known each other before. As if this encounter was a causal one.

"You shouldn't have spied on me." I challenged.

"It wasn't my intention. Tell me how often to you catch yourself singing under your breath while the chorus practices? Do you hum as you go about your simple tasks of washing clothes and snipping threads?" His gaze held my own. "You are a musician, even if you seek to deny it."

My eyes made their way over the mask. Closer I could see on the eyes of the mask, a thin rim of gold paint. It reflected the gold in his eyes, for there was no mistaking the color of them at this distance. They were a bright golden amber shade, set deep in dark sockets amid the black face. Once as a child, I remember my father taking me to see a puppet show of "Othello". The mask reminded me of the crudely painted puppet face of the Moor of Venice.

"Am I right? You are a musician." he asked.

My hands had slowly found their way back down to my sides. "I don't…" I started.

"A yes or no answer will do." He said curtly.

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

"As I am." He replied

"But I still don't see why that interests you sir." I remarked.

He held up his hand and waved it towards me. His gesture made it clear that he wanted me to come closer. I allowed myself only two steps forward.

"I overheard you singing last night. I hope you will pardon my intrusion on your privacy, but I couldn't help myself." His tone sounded sincere and there was no trace of sarcasm as he spoke. "Your voice is sublime, mademoiselle. It was not so much that I stopped to listen, more that I was mesmerized by the sound. I couldn't _help but_ listen."

I took a few more steps.

"So imagine my surprise when I saw you and then when you discredited yourself. I couldn't believe that you would completely deny the notion of your exceptional talent. That is why I complemented you. That is why I rashly offered to give you singing lessons."

My head tilted to one side as I shot him a skeptical glance. "Rashly? So you did not mean what you said. You wouldn't give me singing lessons." I asked.

A deep sigh escaped his lips. "No, I meant what I said. I intend to give you singing lessons. I knew as soon as I heard your voice, that you could be destined for greatness, Christine Daae. Your tone is pure, your voice is even, but it's clear that you lack formal training." He crossed his arms over his coat, leaning across the rail. "You can be on this stage, not doing work, but singing for all of Paris. You only need to stop denying your passion…and accept my offer."

I was in disbelief. This man seemed far too interested in this situation for it only to be a foolish joke. He was very serious. He had complemented me and I could tell it was not mere flattery. He had not spoken of my physical looks, but only of my voice.

_And he had called it sublime._

Yet he wanted me to trust him. A man in a mask.

A man who knew my name.

"You want me to trust you, but I don't even know who you are." I stated. "I'm not even sure how you know my name."

"I know more than just your name, Christine. However there is more I would like to know about you. Not just your name and not just your voice. I can assure you though that while you are in my presence you will be in no danger. I hold your virtue in high regard. With me you are safe." He placed his hands on the rail. "Come down here and talk if you like. As you can see even if I wanted to do any harm, you are well out of my reach." He added, a thin smile growing beneath the mask.

I walked to the very edge of the stage and sat down, tucking my skirt under my legs. He was correct, for there were several yards between the edge of the pit and the edge of the stage. He stood watching me contently and made no move forward. Even seated and my head much higher than his, it seemed as if we were looking at each other eye to eye.

"I don't…even know your name." There were so many more questions I could have asked.

"I'm afraid that is something I must keep secret for now. If it makes you feel more at ease, we shall keep our lessons formal. Would that suite you mademoiselle?" he asked.

"But what should I call you sir?"

"It would please me very much if you would address me as your Maestro." He said with a nod of his head. "I take that as your acceptance then. Shall we begin our first lesson?" He seemed to have everything planned out.

"I haven't agreed to anything yet." I pointed out.

He was annoyed at my refusal "Aren't you at least interested?" I said nothing. I was too stunned by this all to believe it was real. Yet I was expected to accept this extraordinary situation so easily. His eyes never left me.

"You must realize how strange this all feels to me. Perhaps you are so blinded by my 'talent' that you fail to notice it. You appear out of the shadows and claim that you can train my voice. That you can make me a great singer…" my hands started to tremble. "You…you wear a mask…" my voice trailed off.

He raised a hand to touch his mask and cover his eyes. He sighed and shifted his shoulders.

"I didn't mean to offend you, sir. I just find this whole situation…" I raised my eyes up to the rafters. "Frightening…."

"If you are frightened, it is not because of me. It is because you are frightened of your passion, mademoiselle." He offered.

At first I wanted to brush off this last remark as I did the others. It would seem he would say anything to get me to agree with him.

I thought it over, lowering my gaze down to the floor, to the empty blackness on the orchestra pit below my dangling feet. Perhaps I was feeling so unease because he was right. I had been upset after loosing my father. I was distraught in my inability to go and study music like he wanted. I had longed for true music in my life, and I had none. I had only my memories of my father. I was surrounded by Genny and others and their sweet harmonies.

But I had nothing of my own. Perhaps I was afraid of music because I thought I could never again have the joy it brought to others.

This man somehow knew all this, and he was offering me a chance. I could not turn it away.

"Perhaps you are right." I whispered. "I want to sing. I only want to…" I stumbled over my words. "I don't want to be a star. I only want to sing…to be happy again." He again looked at me intently, surprised by my words. "But you sir, what do you want from all this?" I asked.

He stretched out his hand, reaching across the void"If that is your only desire, then I will help you. I think your voice should be shared with the world. You were not meant to stand in the shadows. If you commit yourself to our lessons, if you devote yourself completely to music, you will be destined for greatness."

I wanted to reach out my own hand to touch his

He brought his hand back to his chest. "With my help you could be the greatest singer in the world, but it is enough for now that you sing for me." He pressed his hand to his chest. "_Always and only for me._"

* * *

><p>It was almost midnight when I returned home. I was still out of sorts from my strange meeting. I had agreed to meet him again on opening night, to begin my lessons. Thoughts and predictions clouded my mind so that I didn't pay attention to my surrounding as I entered my home.<p>

"Christine..." Frederich's slurred voice called to me.

Turning in surprise, I saw him sitting at the dining room table, an empty bottle of wine in one hand and a large glass in the other. He looked up at me with eyes half closed.

"I need some money..." he croaked.

I kept my distance. "You're drunk...and I don't have any." Not that I would give him a sou if I did.

"Don't lie." he groaned. "They do pay you at that opera place, don't they?" He reached to pour more wine into his glass and discovering it empty, pushed the bottle away. It fell on its side, rolling off the table and onto the floor with a large _smack_.

My money was kept safe in a small box I had hidden among the costumes in storage. Far away from were Frederich could get it. "You'll never get any money from me, Frederich." I said coldly and left to leave. I heard his stumbling footsteps behind me, and then the weight of his body as he slammed into me.

We both fell over, me on my back and him on top at me. My body went rigid as a terrible thought dawned on me. What if Frederich were not truly drunk? What if he planned this, assuming I would underestimate him in an inebriated state?

His eyes rolled back and forth and his mouth hung slack. The reeking scent of cheap wine filled my nostril. He was indeed very drunk. Clumsy fingers found their way to my throat and pulled at the chain around my neck.

The locket was a wedding present given to my mother by my father. After my father died, I had taken into wearing it all the time. Frederich open the clasp and starred at the small photograph of me and my father inside.

"Give me…some money..." he moaned. He dropped the locket. "One way or another..." his voice trailed off and his eyes did a final roll upward. His head sagged and then his body went limp. I gave a small cry as he fell, but then quickly pushed him off of me and onto the floor. Standing over his unconscious body. I had to wicked urge to kick him. He was dead drunk and could not feel a thing.

But I decided against it and make my way to my room. I had won...this time.


	6. Act One: Chapter Five

It turns out that angels that spoke through walls and teachers that appeared out of shadows were not the only strange beings that inhabited the opera.

It also had ghosts.

The shrieks of Carlotta resounded through the backstage area. Whispers and calls flooded around the dormitories until it seemed like the entire company was crammed in the hall that lead to the diva's dressing room. M. Gabriel as well as the acting manager M. Mercier stood in front of the door, trying their best to clear everyone out. But everyone filed through to get a glimpse inside, including myself.

I heard Madame LeRoy's voice call from in the room as she spotted my face in the crowd. "Christine, please come in." I pushed my way through the wall of bodies and survived the damage.

Every vase in the room was smashed on the ground, the beautiful flowers they contained stamped into the light cream carpet. The water from the vases and the dye from the flowers had already made stains beyond repair. The furniture was over turned and a mirror similar in style to the one Genny had in her room was smashed.

The diva sat on a footstool that was still intact. Her head was buried in her hands and she sobbed. Her maid stood over in a corner, her hands held together not sure what to do. A few stagehands started to place the furniture right side up. Madame LeRoy was standing by the closet.

"Christine, do you have your keys?" she asked. "I forgot mine on the way down here." I went to her side withdrawing my set of keys from my apron pocket. The door of the closet was splinted and broken as if someone had taken an axe to it. I noticed a nervous expression on Madame's face and soon realized she was worried if the contents inside the wardrobe were as damaged as the items outside of it.

I heard her take a deep breath as I opened the door. Velvet gowns and skirts starred back at us, shredded. I pushed them aside to see a large fur wrap of light grey with a black stain splattered over it. I touched it. It was dry. Now I took an unsteady breath as I searched through the ruined wardrobe for Carlotta's costume. I saw it and with a swift move grabbed the hanger and pulled it out.

There was no damage. The costume was as pressed and clean as it had been when I had returned it the night before. I hadn't even placed it in the wardrobe, but hung it on a post against the door so it wouldn't wrinkle.

Carlotta looked at us both, seeing past us to the disheveled remained of her clothes. Another loud incoherent cry escaped her lips. "Oh mio Dio! Why?"

I heard a shuffle behind me and turn to see the two general managers; M. Moncharmin and M. Richard walk into the ruined room. They glanced around in shock and then went to their diva's side. A flurry of questions flew back and forth between them. The maid reported that the room was intact when she left last night and in shambles when she came in this morning.

Carlotta managed to stop her crying for a moment. As she pulled her hands away from her face, I noticed a crumpled piece of paper in her grip.

"What's this?" ask M. Moncharmin

At that question, the look in Carlotta's eyes turned from sadness to rage. She flung the note at the two managers.

"This!" she hissed. "This! Take a good look at it." Moncharmin took it from her and read it out loud to his partner.

"La Carlotta, your singing tarnishes the stage and your presence brings no joy. Perhaps you should take a cue from your character and remain in the underworld were no one can hear you. Your obedient servant, O.G." He said softly reading the cryptic note out loud. The stagehands stopped their work and Carlotta's maid gasped and crossed herself. Behind me I heard Madame whisper to herself.

"It is the ghost…."

Only I and the managers found this behavior odd and looked at each other confused.

"A ghost?" echoed Richard.

Carlotta shot up, pointing a finger at them. "This is no ghost! This is a saboteur!"

They tried to calm her down, but she was fuming. Her eyes darted back and forth throughout the room. "Someone doesn't want me to sing! They hate me so much that they would invade my private room and destroy all my things! They hate me! They hate me!" she shouted. Her temper grew into one resembling an unwieldy child. Then her angry glance found its way to me and Madame.

She stared directly at me, fury in her eyes.

"The costume is undamaged…" I said thinking of nothing better to say at the moment.

She smiled and it was not a smile brought on by joy. "Yes of course…" she cooed. She strode up to me and before I knew it, her hand was raised above my head aiming for me. Madame was quicker than I, pushing her hands against the diva's chest and forcing her away from me. I dropped the dress and cried out. The managers came and put two firm arms around Carlotta as she spat at me. She missed an the glob of spittle landed on the floor near my skirt.

"It's her! I know it! She has the keys to my room and my closet. There is your proof!" she shouted.

Madame LeRoy shook her head. "Not possible! Why would Christine have any reason to do this?" she said in my defense.

"Do you think I am a fool? She did it for de Chagny! I see those two stupid girls together all the time. It's obviously they are in cahoots together. Genevieve wants my role and her friend had all the tools and time to make this happen!" She explained. They managed to get her seated and then all attention turned to me.

I could feel the color drain from my face as the managers looked at me. I tried not to for I knew it would make me look guilty. I could anticipate their questions and I could not defend myself. I was here late doing my work. Others had keys. I was with….

I could not let a man I barely knew be my alibi.

Madame LeRoy took a step in front of me and then the eyes in the room turned away from me. M. Richard shook his head and I overheard him whisper to his partner. "That little girl couldn't have done this. Look at her! She's frightened at the sight of it."

Madame turned to me. "Christine, take the costume to our department. Lock it in the wardrobe in the sewing room." She instructed eager to hurry me out.

"Yes." I replied, shifting the dress in my hands. "Madame…I didn't do what she said…"

She smiled at me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Of course you didn't." I left the room, again having to muscle my way through the crowed hall. While I walked I noticed the ballet girls, shuffling down the corridors. There slim legs and small faces were as pale as the white dresses they wore. A few of them caught my eye as I passed and they stared at me, unashamed. Then is if I had frightened them, they retreated away, whispering to each other.

"It's the ghost!"

* * *

><p>My ears were still ringing with the shouts and laughter of the company. I could still taste chocolate and champagne on my lips as Genny had indulged me in sharing her treats. The curtain had fallen on opening night of <em>Orpheus in the Underworld<em>. The echoes of the Gallop ringing though the stage seemed like a faint memory.

My hands trembled as I stood onstage, awaiting the appearance of my Maestro.

The clock struck eleven. By now the rest of the company were most likely up to their elbows in drink and food, celebrating their performance at the many venues about the opera. My thoughts turn only to the Maestro. I had reasoned that if he claimed to be musician and already knew so much about me, then he must be a member of the company. He must have seen me wandering the halls of the opera before, even if I had not seen him. Maybe he wouldn't even come? He would be too busy celebrating with the others.

Of course the mystery that captured most of my attention was the mask. Perhaps I had seen him before and knew him, and that he only wore the mask for these encounters. But why? Maybe he was a patron, an aristocrat who protected his identity and dignity by donning a mask at night.

All these fanciful thoughts were only deceiving me from coming to the true conclusion. The siege of Paris was almost ten years ago, and while I was not living in the city at the time, I had seen the soldiers returning from battle. I saw the faces and bodies of young men, scarred and burned. More than likely, he was just one of the many who had suffered this cruelty of war.

"Good evening mademoiselle." His voice pulled me away from my thoughts. I looked out into the auditorium, stepping out to the edge of the stage trying to pick up his shape.

"I am glad to see you here." he spoke again and now I could tell that the 'voice' had come from behind me. As I turned, I discovered he was only a few feet from me. I leaned back in surprise and could fell my feet stumbling.

He quickly reached out and caught my hand. "Careful." he warned steadying me. My face grew hot with embarrassment and I was so wrapped up in the thought of it, that I didn't mind him pulling me along.

"It seems the stage might be a hazardous place for a singing lesson, despite its impressive acoustics." He remarked. "Fortunate for you, I have planned ahead and found a much more agreeable spot." He released my hand and turned to offer his arm. "May I?"

My nerves returned as I starred at his arm. The eyes behind the mask were wide open and entirely focused on me. As if I was offending him. It was foolish of me to be so paranoid, yet my dealing with Frederich had made me so.

And I was after all, in the company of a masked man in the opera at night.

Alone.

I took his arm anyway as he led me off into one of the wings. I kept my distance as much as I could with our arms intertwined. Now, so close to him, I could see the full extend of his height. My eyes were level with the crook of his arm, and I had to raise my hand up to hold on. He still wore the long black overcoat and what I could gather from the shape underneath; he was not a man of muscles or girth. In fact he was very thin and his coat seemed to hang on him as if it draped over a skeletal frame instead of a man of flesh. The rest of his attire matched the shade of his coat and mask. Only his white gloved hands stood out in stark contrast with the rest of him. When we reached the end of the path, he turned and led me down another wing which finally dead ended into a spiral staircase. It was a place I hadn't noticed before, even after weeks of working backstage.

We mounted the first step, his arm slipping away and then turning to take my hand. The fabric of his gloves felt soft and warm against my palm. We climbed and I felt like we had gone up many flights before the steps finally ended. I was surprised they didn't lead up to the roof.

We were instead on a landing that for the most part was covered in dust and bits of canvas. A door with a frosted glass window stood off to the side, and I could see light coming from the other side. He opened it and we step out into another hall of the opera. Each side surrounded by many doors. He chose one and we both stepped inside.

The gaslights in the room had already been lit .He turned to lock the door, I observed my new surrounding. It was simple room with its only outstanding feature being a full length mirror that completely covered one wall. There was a simple upright piano, a bench and a few chairs.

"How did you manage to find your way up here without a light, sir?" I asked

"I know my way around this opera house." was his simple reply.

Perhaps this is where the Maestro worked. His job at the opera must have been an important position that kept him away from the daily affairs and ordeal of backstage. He slipped off his coat while making his way to the piano. Underneath his over coat, we wore another long jacket ending right above his knee. Beneath his jacket, he had the simplest of accessories. A dark gray vest against a simple white dress shirt, tied neatly at the neck with a dark cravat.

As an afterthought, he turned in mid stride and extended a hand in my direction. "Shall I take your jacket?" he offered.

"No thank you. I'd rather keep it on."

He sat down, opened the cover on the keyboard. He removed his gloves and spread out his fingers. His digits expanded over the black and white keys, covering at least six sets with each hand. "Very well then." he said striking a note. "Scales if you please."

With each scale, my breath grew deeper. With each scale, the notes grew higher. I thought he would soon stop and correct me. But he only moved to the next key. "Good." I reached notes that my mind reasoned I could not sing, yet I did anyway.

It finally stopped and I was breathless. I couldn't help myself and leaned against the piano for support My hands rested over my chest feeling my heart pounding against them. It had been ages since I had sung like that.

"Tell me Christine, do you know Handel's _Rinaldo_?" he asked.

"Yes." I said in a breathy voice. "Not as well I should...not as well as you." I added

At this he laughed. It seemed a peculiar action for a man of such a serious nature. Smiles issuing from his thin lips covered by the shadow of his mask. Laughter in that same beautiful voice. "Are you trying to flatter me, mademoiselle?"

I had to smile as well. "Perhaps."

"I'm grateful the compliment. For now I suppose we should practice that comic drivel that passes for art around here." he said bitterly.

"You mean the opera? I take it you did not enjoy it?" I prodded, some how assuming that he had seen that night performance. He shook his head no.

"People come to the Paris opera to witness art. Works by the greats. Mozart, Gounod, Rossini. If they wanted to watch a travesty like the one played on stage this evening, they could have gone to a cheap and common playhouse."

"I did not know...that some people could dislike such things with a passion." I whispered.

His mood was again serious. "It is my passion for music that makes me speak so frankly." he explained. "Tell me Christine, did you enjoy the opera?"

His tone was sarcastic. I was surprised that he bothered to ask my opinion at all, since his manner implied that the only judgment he valued on this matter was his own.

"It is pleasant enough to listen to..." I admitted. There was no smile from him anymore. "But I suppose I'm not the best judge of such things." I quickly added, feeling in that moment very inferior.

"These are gods, we are taking about! Heavenly beings that have inspired tales and myths that have lasted thorough the ages." he ranted. "They are not something to be taken lightly. I suppose most people might enjoy such simple satire but I…am not like most people." He spoke the last words as if he were flinging an insult.

He had his point, but I spoke again.

"But the gods of legend often behaved foolishly. Even with their mighty airs, graces and powers, they are subject to many faults. And since they are gods, theses faults are larger than life. I think the opera only exposures the truth and use these events to mirror the short coming in our own lives." I explained, feeling proud of myself.

However it was obvious that my argument had not swayed him. His eyes were dark as they met mine.

"And what of Orpheus? A mortal man that defies death itself all for music...and the love of a woman. A man who willing ascends into hell…is he to be turned into a figure of comedy." he challenged

There was a long pause. I finally shook my head, my eyes lowered away from his gaze. "No."

He must have known that I was now upset and not wanting to continue in my lesson. He rose from the piano bench and met me halfway, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm sorry." he said sincerely. "I promised you a lesson, not a debate. My rude talk has offended you." I managed to look up at him. "Shall we start again?"

I nodded and he returned to his seat at the piano and began playing a familiar phrase. I recognized it as one of Diana's lines from the Olympus scene in act one. I knew it well for I had heard Genny singing it many times.

Now it was my turn, and with that my lessons began.


	7. Act One: Chapter Six

Every evening, I hurried to finish my tasks. Madame LeRoy often teased me for working so fast and gave me permission to leave early and finish my work in the morning if I desired. I thank her but continued at my pace, making sure each costume was stored properly and each dressing room prepared for the following performance.

After all this, I waited on stage until the Maestro appeared. I had even ventured to try and find the room myself, but ended up hopeless lost. Fortunately the Maestro found me among the parallel passages and guided me in the right direction.

Each night I continued in this strange routine, being lead to our private practice room, being put through rigorous exercises and scales before I finally was allowed to sing pieces from operas. The Maestro was kind, often leaving a pitcher of water in the room for me. Once he managed to have a cup of tea, still very hot waiting for me at the beginning of my lesson.

True to his promise, he kept our lessons very professional. He seemed reluctant to discuss the everyday occurrences at the opera with me, or any other subject for that matter. Our conversations stayed only on music. On one hand I was grateful for this and keeping an emotional distance from him made me feel safe.

However when I departed from him, I felt an immediate sense of longing to return. I would not have mind passing more time in his company, even though our lessons left me exhausted. We could have talked and I could have asked questions. Mostly about him. I would try to dig at the mystery of his identity and the source of his great talent. The way he moved his hands as he played made them seem like birds in flight, instead of just fingers on the keyboard. He offered to correct my pitch by singing the notes on his own with ease. In those moments, I secretly wish our roles were reversed. That I could accompany him just for the reward of hearing him sing more.

As the curtain fell one evening, I was already busily straightening costumes and items in Genny's dressing room, thinking of famous duets I knew. I could hint to the Maestro that I wanted to sing them tonight; in hopes that he would join me. I started to sing softly, when the door opened and Genny walked in. My notes stopped in my throat and I was silent. A look of disappointment spread over her face as she looked in my direction.

"Christine. I didn't see you backstage at curtain call tonight." She said glumly

I shrugged and went to her, helping to remove her headpiece. "You know how much work I have to do. I just thought it was better to get an early start." I lied, knowing my really intent was to run off to my lessons as quickly as possible.

Genny's lips curled in a sort of half smile and she rolled her eyes back. "Yes, yes your work but for tonight you must put it aside. I have a surprise for you."

"No I can't." I shook my head excitedly. I was surprised on how much I dislike the idea of being delayed from my lessons for even a moment.

"Please Christine." She pleaded.

"All right, but whatever it is, I hope it won't take all night."

"I hope it will." She said with a giggle. I unfastened the back of her dress and she retreated to the corner behind a screen to remove it. "My surprise should be here any moment" she explained. "So I should be decent."

I sighed, "Genny, just tell me what it is. I'm sure if I knew, then I wouldn't be so reluctant." I went to work folding her cloths and returning her headpiece to its home on a canvas dummy.

"No I won't tell you." She said childishly from behind the screen. "It wouldn't be a surprise." Then as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. "And here it is!" she cried out.

I went to the door and opened it. The familiar noises of the crowded hallway assaulted my ears and my eyes met with a man standing outside, holding flowers. I had seen this many time before, for Genny had several male admirers come to her door both young and old. She accepted gifts from most, but only spoke to few. As his eyes met mine, I was taken aback at how strikingly handsome this caller was. He was tall but certainly not as tall as my Maestro. He had golden brown hair, fair skin and wide eyes. A wisp of a mustache and goatee in the same golden shade of his hair was under his lips. He was not flashing a bright smile, like most men in his position but instead his lips hung slack as he looked at me.

"These are for…" he started.

I took the bouquet from him, a large one filled with yellow and white lilies. "Yes for Mlle. De Chagny. But you'll have to wait a moment sir. The lady is indisposed right now." I stated and turn to deposit the flowers on the nearest table.

"Actually… the flowers are for you…Christine." He whispered. I stopped and looked back at him stunned. His brown eyes seemed to grow wider as he looked at me. "It is Christine…am I right?"

Before I could answer back with a question of my own, Genny's voice rang out from behind me. "Raoul!"

My neck felt hot and I was sure my cheeks would be bright red in a moment. I had always held the picture of Raoul in my mind as he was, a young boy. Now here he stood before me, a man and my perception of him was shattered. I still held the flowers in my hand, too dumbfounded to put them down as I continued to stare.

"May I come in?" he asked.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. "Come in big brother!" Genny called and he stepped inside and shut the door. He turned to me and gently took the flowers out of my hands to set them aside. Now he smiled.

"Christine Daae." He said then pulled my hand up to his lips to place a small kiss upon it. Genny finally emerged from, her evening dress half way on. She pulled on Raoul's waist bringing him away from me as the two embraced. Raoul quickly turned his attention back to me. "It is good to see you again Christine."

"Yes, it is good to see you." I had finally found my voice again. "I trust you have been well, sir."

"Sir?" he laughed. "Please Christine, we are friends." He took a seat at the table while Genny finished straitening her dress

I took his cue. "Thank you for the flowers Raoul." I joined him at the table.

Genny frowned and put a finger to her lips. "We must have something to drink." She mused. I started to rise but she pointed her finger at me. "No you stay there!" she said brightly. "You've been working hard enough. I'm perfectly capable of finding refreshments myself." She went to the door, looking each way before vanishing off to the right.

My eyes met with Raoul's and he watched me smiling. I was at a loss of anything to say. When I was young, I had learned to accept Raoul and Genny as no different from any other children I knew, despite our difference in class. In my memories, Raoul was still as tall as me, a joke always on his lips and his clothes often disheveled and dirty from play. Now he sat here, impeccably in his full evening attire. Such a complete reverse from my childhood playmate.

He broke the silence.

"Christine Daae, where is your scarf?" he asked.

I looked at him puzzled. "My scarf?"

He laughed and placed his gloves on the table. His smile was very warm making him appear more handsome, if such a thing were possible.

"Don't tell me you have lost it again! After I went through so much trouble to fetch it for you the first time."

Memories flooded back to me. The crisp scent of the sea air, the clean sand and a figure of a child running into the waves. It was the day Raoul and I first met. I sighed pressing a hand to my temple. "Oh yes. How could I forget how you looked on that day?"

"I remember a small little girl who lovely song was interrupted by her crying after her scarf. I watched it float in the air and finally land in the waves, and before I knew what I was doing, I found myself knee deep in the surf. I was determined to catch that red scarf. It was red, wasn't?"

I nodded. "Yes it was. I started crying louder when I saw you in the sea. I thought you would drown and I called out that you were a stupid boy for running in like that."

"You did? I never heard you." Raoul noted.

I blushed. "Well I did. I was so relived when you came out of the water with my scarf that you were all right. You were soaked to the skin."

"Oh, so that look of joyous expression on your face was because you were concerned for me!" he exclaimed. "And all these years I thought it was because you were happy to get your scarf back."

"Of course not! What kind of person would I be then?" I said with a chuckle.

"Yes. I suppose." He mused. "You kissed me."

The chuckle died in my throat. "I did. To thank you for retrieving my scarf. I thought you were so brave." I recalled leaning over to place a small kiss on the soaking wet cheek of the little boy. My habitual shyness had fled me for the moment.

"Then my aunt came and found us and she was furious! Do you remember the look on her face?" he asked laughing once more and I joined him, laughing myself.

"Yes, but what of my face? When I found out that the little boy who rescued my scarf was none other than the Vicomte de Chagny. I could have fainted right there on the beach." I confessed.

We laughed for a long moment, and it felt good. I felt good. This was my friend, Raoul. Just Raoul.

At that moment, Genny came back in the door, carrying a tray with all the items needed for tea. She shut the door behind her with her foot.

"What did I miss?" she asked "Why were you laughing?"

"We were reminiscing on how we first met and the look on aunt's face when she saw me in my frock coat dripping with sea water." Raoul explained, rising to take the tea from Genny. She took a seat and to my amazement, Raoul started to serve us both tea.

"Oh I wish I could have been there in personal to see the old gargoyle get mad!" Genny remarked, taking her cup from Raoul.

"Would you care for sugar, Christine?" He asked.

"No thank you but extra lemon if you have it."

"Ah, must keep your voice in tact for all those singing lesson I suppose." He commented.

My face went as white as the tablecloth. I stared at him bewildered as he offered me my cup. How could he have known?

But his look back at me was the same one of confusion.

"Christine isn't taking singing lessons." Genny pointed out. "She's not in the chorus."

Raoul frowned. "Not in the chorus? But why not?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I suppose music is not my calling." I lied, trying to keep my face in check.

"I thought that is why you came to the opera?" he continued. Obviously he had not been told the entire story of my position. "I don't understand. You should be in the chorus. You have a remarkable voice."

"I've tried for two months now to convince her of that." Genny said before taking a sip of tea. "But she is insistent. Besides, Christine doesn't need singing lessons."

Now my confusion turned to Genny.

"Her voice is wonderful. I've heard it. It has blossomed into a beautiful instrument since we were young." She explained. "Even if she is not aware of it."

My blush was full across face. "You have?"

Genny noticed my complexion and an instant look of regret crossed her face. "Oh Christine, I didn't mean to tease. It's just in the past few weeks I've overheard you singing and other have too. They have come to me as your friend asking where you had gotten such a voice."

Raoul smiled at me sensing my discomfort. "You shouldn't have to hide your voice Christine. You can share it." He reached a hand across the table to set it over mine. "Let us have no secrets among friends." As his hand touch mind, I was reminded of how strong our friendship had been. I hadn't seen Raoul in over six years, but he had come to see me. He was a vicomte, privilege and responsible, yet he was considerate enough to bring me flowers. To sit and serve me tea and invite me to share my secrets with him.

"I have been seeing someone." I blurted out surprised at my sudden confession. Both Genny and Raoul stared at me. "A singing instructor, that is" I explained. "We met here at the opera and he offered me lessons."

"Ah ha! I knew it. I knew that you could not stay silent forever Christine!" Genny exclaimed. "How did you meet this teacher?"

"He was an acquaintance of Madame Valerius; a colleague of her late husband is what he told me." I lied. "She agreed to pay for my lessons. He has a very busy schedule as do I, so he meets me here at the opera for my lessons when my work is finished."

While Genny seemed delighted, Raoul shot me a look of concern. "He meets you here at the opera? Alone?"

I was quick to my defense. "Our relationship is very professional, Raoul I can assure you. Besides he is a professor of music himself, a well matured man." I offered, but in truth I had no idea what age my maestro was. I glanced over at Genny and though of her confession about the Angel of Music. Did Raoul know of his sister's equally strange arrangement with her mysterious teacher?

"What's his name?" he asked.

I swallowed hard as I thought of an excuse. "He is an old friend of Madame's but I have only known him as the maestro." I paused to take a sip of tea, buying myself more time to think. "I believe he prefers him anonymity and I respect that."

Raoul frowned but did not question me further. I took another drink.

"What does he look like?" Genny asked. My cup banged loudly against the saucer as I nearly missed setting it down. "If he is an old friend of the professor, perhaps we saw him before when we were younger…"

"Does it matter what he looks like?" Raoul cut her off, annoyed.

"I agree." I added, grateful that Raoul had stopped this line of questioning.

Genny shook her head. "I suppose not." She finished off her tea. "So when will you audition for the chorus? You know I can always arrange that for you"

"When I am ready, or when my teacher thinks so. Maybe in a year…"

"A year! But you are ready now!" Genny protested.

Raoul put a firm hand on his sister's arm. "Now Genevieve, don't pout. We should respect Christine's decision…" his gaze turned to me "And that of her maestro." He added.

He stood and reached over for my hand again. "Christine, it has been a great pleasure seeing you again. But the hour grows late. I must take my spoiled baby sister home. I apologize from keeping you from your work."

"No, thank you Raoul. I have enjoyed our visit together." I answered honestly.

"Then you won't protest if we meet again soon?" he added and then kiss my hand. "Until then, Christine."

"Until then."


	8. Act One: Chapter Seven

The smell of fresh dough and sugar glaze filled the Valerius house. Every other week, Michelle would devote one day to baking a variety of breads and sweet rolls for the household. It was one of the few things I had to look forward to in a long while, especially the time when Mamma was sick and I spent all my time at home.

Michelle claims she could have been a successful baker if she were younger, but now she was content to have at least two people enjoy her creations. I dressed quickly and hungrily made my way down the stairs. Michelle greeted my entrance to the kitchen with a warm smile. She pointed with one flour covered hand to the small window over the stove.

"I have a rack cooling over there. Just took them out a few minutes ago." She said.

I observed a rack of large yeast rolls, glistening with some sort of delicate glaze. "May I?"

She laughed. "That's what you are here for anyway. Admit it." She pointed out. "Go ahead."

I reached up and grabbed on, taking a big bite. The texture of the bread was light but filling, and the gaze was some delicious concoction of butter and honey.

"Thank you." I said after I swallowed. She nodded as she went back to her work.

"Don't mention it." She replied shrugging her shoulders. Feeling a bit greedy, I retrieved a napkin from a drawer and snatched another roll.

"I have something for you on the counter, mademoiselle." Michelle called as my back was turned. I stuff the roll in my apron pocket and turned my attention to a large wrapped parcel. I went to it and saw several baguette and some hard rolls tucked inside.

"So you have something to eat at work." Michelle continued to speak, even though her eyes didn't leave her work.

"I shouldn't though…" I started. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with Madame, or make you work any…"

"Christine, may I be frank." Michelle let her rolling pin fall to the table with a loud smack and she looked directly at me. "It isn't Madame you are worried about, it's him." She said bluntly.

I bit my lip. What did she know?

"You haven't been taking any food with you for the day and I know you aren't the kind to waste your money on a feast. You've been going hungry until you managed to come home and have supper." She had moved around the table, wiping her hands on her apron but still looking at me. "And you've had been coming in late at night. That's not right."

I felt like I was being accused and quickly thought up of a lie. "My work keeps me…"

Michelle sighed. "You don't have to make an excuse, girl. I know very well why you stay out." I felt my body go tense. Michelle frowned. "I've seen the way he looks at you. I know I haven't been here long, so it may not be my place to say anything. But I still can be concerned for you. I can still care….even if I can't change it."

My shoulder relaxed as the tense feeling left me. She understood.

"Now take the bread and don't let the bastard see you with it." She instructed.

I gathered it up in my arms. "Thank you Michelle." I turned to leave.

"Christine…" she called. "Perhaps there is some one you can tell. I know Madame is still unwell and her mind seems to be going…but perhaps you have a friend. Some one who can protect you…a male friend."

I shook my head. Who would I burden this secret with? Raoul? No.

Who would believe me? My Maestro?

Even as I thought this, something small in the back of my head tried to reason with me. Why would I think the Maestro would not want to help me? He has been so kind to me so far. Why was I so afraid to tell anyone? Why didn't I ask for help?

"I don't have anyone like that." I admitted.

"Then find one. And if he ends up being a lover, so much the better." Michelle said boldly.

I shrugged and thanked her again before heading back upstairs to my room. I found my hat and checked myself in a small mirror I had hung on the back of my door. Something was missing. I put my hand on my chest contemplating as I looked at my reflection.

My locket.

It wasn't under my fingertips. I went over to my dresser and pulled out the first drawer. I looked in the small box were I kept my stockings and stored my few piece of jewelry. It wasn't there. I pulled out my paste ear bobs and some hairpins, but no necklace. I tried to recall taking it off last night. I was still upset about missing my lessons. Maybe I had lost it at the opera.

Now I was frantic, grabbing the bread from Michelle and leaving my hat, I went for the front door.

When I opened my own, I stopped as I saw Frederich standing on the stairs in front of me. His back was turned to me and he was walking around the house in his dressing robe. And I knew in one horrible moment where my necklace was.

"Where is it?" I demanded all fear and hesitation gone for the moment. He turned and looked at me, still sleepy eyed.

"What?"

"My necklace. Don't lie. I know you took it." I was surprised at the coldness of my voice.

He blinked. "Oh yes, that. Don't worry I'll get it back for you." He replied.

"What did you do with it?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "I needed some money for the tables, so I pawned it."

My heart sank. Perhaps I would have been better off not knowing the truth. At most it would have been worth a franc or two to any dealer, but it was worth so much more to me. He had been so desperate for so little money that he robbed me of one of my treasures. It was the only picture I had of my father. I started to cry in spite of myself.

"You could have taken anything." I choked out.

He gave an annoyed sigh. I didn't even attempt to move as he came back up the stairs and pressed his body against my back. "Don't be so worried. Lucky for you Christine, I actually won some money last night. I'll get your necklace back." He reached his fingers to pinch the skin at my throat. "Or better yet, I'll buy you a new one. A better one." His breath was hot against my face as he leaned closer. "Girls like you deserve pretty things from…"

"Get your hands off me!" I hissed, reaching up my hand swiftly. I didn't hit him, but it was enough to make him duck out of the way. I ran downstairs and out the door, slamming it with all my might.

* * *

><p>I did my scales that evening without any excitement or delight. The Maestro was clearly too wrapped up in his lesson plan to notice.<p>

He rested his fingers on the keys and spoke with out turning to me. "Now, I think the time is come for more serious practice. I will teach you to sing bel canto, have you heard of it?"

"No." I answered, not sure if it was a truthful reply.

"It's Italian. It means beautiful singing. Now that your voice in well practiced, we will correct your technique. It will make your voice stand out in the chorus among the other sopranos who simply blast out the notes."

He rose and started to pace. Notes flowed from his fingers and throat, but often when he spoke, he seemed agitated. He was far more comfortable playing music than he was talking about it

"Your vibrato is strong, but almost too strong. You must learn to control your tone so that you don't waver when you change your pitch. Also when you reach into your upper register, your voice grows louder to hit the notes. With bel canto, you reach these notes in a light and soft tone. You just touch them. Do you understand?"

I murmured something of a reply. It caught his attention and he stopped his pacing. He reached out and grasped my right hand in his.

"Christine, I sense that your lack of enthusiasm is not just brought on by disinterest. Something is wrong." He stated. With his other hand he gently lifted a finger to my chin, forcing my head up so that our eyes met. "Isn't?"

His eyes widen as he saw the tears in my own eyes. Overcome, I leaned forward, falling into his arms and sobbing. At my first touch, I felt his body go rigid next to mine surprised by my outburst. I did not think I could be emotionally weighed down with my lost. I had managed to keep silent all day not mentioning it to anyone. I suppose withholding my emotions had finally caused them to burst from inside me. Now I was weeping like a child in my music teacher's arm.

Slowly, I felt his arms encircle my shoulders as his hands meet across my back. His longer fingers curled against my backbone and press themselves into me. He kept his head straight but allowed me to cry for as long as I needed, without asking me why.

"Forgive me Maestro…" I choked out. "I have lost something very precious to me and I guess I underestimated how I felt about it."

"Am I correct to assume that I am the first person to know this?" he asked

My face flashed red with embarrassment, but it was not enough to motivate me to withdraw from him. "You are the only one I've told."

"What is it that you have lost?" he continued

I finally pulled away from him, ashamed of myself. "It was a necklace." I started bringing my hand to my collar bone to touch the place where it would have been. "I know it wouldn't be much to most people, but the necklace was my mothers..." I had not stopped crying. "It had a photograph of my father and me when I was a girl. It was taken right after my mother had passed, and even then I knew how important it was. How expensive it must have been for my father to have our portrait made..."my words trailed off and my hands rose to my face to wipe away fresh tears.

"Who took your necklace Christine?" he asked. He did not question how I had lost it. He already seemed to know it was taken from me. I didn't answer at first.

"Tell me Christine." he demanded.

"It was some one I live with."

"A lover?"

I gasped and my face went even redder. "No, nothing like that, no." I protested.

"Then who?" he persisted. He was angry and trying to conceal it.

"He is a relative. No. I...I live with a guardian, a family friend. Her nephew lives with us." I managed to explain. "He somehow took it from my room."

"Why would he have any need to take it?"

I sighed. "He wanted money. He pawned it for money. Money to gamble or drink, I don't know. He promised he get it back, but I know that's a lie." My chest heaved as I felt another sob come on. "I'll never see my necklace again."

He took a few steps around me, standing behind my back. "Don't you have any other family? Any one else you could stay with?" His even tone and questions lead me to believe that he knew I was not telling the whole truth. How could I? He was my teacher. He did not need to be burdened with my personal matters.

"No I have no other family." I admitted.

"And that's why the necklace is so dear to you. It's all you have left of them." he concurred.

I nodded, my lips shut tight afraid to speak or cry. His hands touched my shoulders and squeezed. We stood there for a moment, and I felt my body would have crumpled if I had not been held up by his hands.

"I'm sorry for my behavior." I told him. "I shouldn't have burdened you with my stupid problems."

"No Christine. I am glad you told me." His hand moved away and then returned. I felt a soft texture dangling by my cheek and opened my eyes to see a plain white handkerchief in front of my face. I took it and thanked him.

"If you are too upset, then we could cancel our lesson for today." His serious and professional manner returned and he left me to return to the piano.

I blotted my face with the handkerchief. As it passed over my face, I took in its scent, one unfamiliar to me. I went to stand beside the piano.

"No I want to stay." I told him. Truthfully I did not want to be turned away from the only person to show me kind attention in a long while. I could not bear being sent away. "I want to continue the lesson...please." I offered him back his handkerchief. He put up his hand to push me away.

"No you keep it." He pulled from his collection of music a large sheet and handed it over to me. "I think we can use this opportunity to learn this piece."

I read the first notes of the libretto. _Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herze. _ I instantly recognized this infamous piece from _The Magic Flute_"This is sung by the Queen of the Night."

"Correct."

Then I observed the notes on the scales. "No, I know what this is. I can't sing this."

At last, a smile. "Why not?"

"It's only one of the most difficult arias ever. I cannot possibly reach these notes."

"Which is why we will start in a lower key." He stated in a matter of fact tone. I sang it through once in a much lower key than it was intended for. I reached all the notes comfortably.

"You see how you lightly touched the higher notes. You were not breathy when you reached them." He pointed out after my first attempt "You were not worried about how high you had to make your voice. Instead they flowed effortlessly off your tongue."

"Yes but will they when I must reach a high f above the staff"

He inclined his head, pretending he did not hear me. "Oh you have such little faith Christine." We started again, and I repeated the song in the same key. The next time, instead of adjusting it height, he made the key start even lower. I continued in this pattern several times, reaching the lowest notes in my register.

Pausing, he complimented me. "You have a very impressive range. I gather you did not know that you could sing that low?" As always, he was correct.

"If you had told me that I could sing those notes before, I wouldn't have believe you." I confessed.

"So shall it be on the opposite end of the scale." His fingers came down hard upon the keyboard striking the opening chord of the aria in the proper key. My chin started to shake and he moved his hand to take mind that was lying on the side of the keyboard. He studied me intently.

"Don't think of the notes. Think of the emotions. This is a song of revenge. It is an ultimatum." He explained. "Take all the emotions you are feeling now. All your anger and all your helplessness. Put them into the song Christine." His hand tightened and I watched the elegant long gloved fingers encircle my hand. Then he launched himself into the music and I followed.

_Hell's vengeance boils in my heart;_

_Death and despair blaze around me!_

_Forsaken be forever,_

_Shattered be forever_

_Hear, gods of vengeance!_

And it was over. The last thundering chords of the piano pounded in my ears. I let out a breath so harsh as if I not bothered to breathe at all during the aria. I reached every note. My voice did not break or crack. I hadn't been surprised by a flat note as I soared up the staff.

I had never felt so…alive. I looked at my Maestro. The eyes behind the mask were soft. He was pleased with me.

"I did it."


	9. Act One: Chapter Eight

"I'm in the mood for some delicious gossip." Genny informed me.

Again she had offered to take me to lunch and we now sat on the steps of a quaint cafe on the other side of the street from the opera. Actually she had wanted to get her hands on a paper. She informed me that even though her brother Philippe let her indulge in the unorthodox life of an opera singer, he refused to let her be involved with reporter or critics. As powerful as the Comte was, he could not keep his sister's name out of the newspapers completely. However he did not allow any of them at their town house so Genny was forced to buy them herself and read them out of sight

It came as no surprise that Genny received nothing but favorable reviews and praise. But word had gotten around that the critics and patrons were not as enthusiastic about the opera in general. She let me finish reading the column when she was done and found the critic share the same opinion of the opera as the Maestro.

To be blunt he hated it.

When we returned to the opera, Genny had promised to introduce me to the opera's gossip. She teased me stating that it was someone I had met before.

"Then it must be Jammes or little Giry. Who else chatters and gossip more than those ballet girls."

She shook her head "Guess again." We made our rounds through out the back stage until we headed for the stage. The orchestra had just finished their afternoon session and musicians passed us, offering a nod once they saw Genny.

"Ah Camille, I thought you would be here." Genny cried out to a woman standing near the edge of the stage. She turned and I saw that it was Camille, the assistant to M. Gabriel. She was close to our age, but while Genny and the other girls at the opera acted so extroverted and gay, Camille seemed a very serious person and not involved or concerned with life's trivial matters. She was devoted to her work as a script girl and Gabriel's assistant, keeping track of every score and sheet of music used for a performance.

As we approached, I shook my head in disapproval. Obviously I had misjudged her. "Don't tell me you're the notorious gossip."

She smiled coolly at me. "So, I see Genny has exposed my little secret."

Genny could see the look of disapproval on my face and frowned at me. "Christine don't be so judgmental." She chided me. Then she turned back to Camille. "I'm dying to here about the latest scandal. "

"Scandal?" I asked confused.

"I heard news that the opera ghost is most displeased with out new managers, or that's the talk that's been going around the chorus." Genny explained. "It's so unfortunate that I'm separate from the rest of cast."

Camille pursed her lips in a false pout. "Oh, the irony that a member of the ton can't be the center of her own circle of gossip." She mocked. "Don't listen to anything the chorus girls might say. You should always come to me first."

"Who is the opera ghost?" I blurted out.

Both of them turned their attention to me. Genny looked stunned.

"You've never heard of the opera ghost. You've been working hear all these months and no one has told you about the phantom!"

"Well I've heard of him." I admitted. "On opening night when Carlotta's dressing room was broken into. They say it was the ghost."

At this, Camille started to laugh. "Oh yes! And Carlotta blamed you." I shook my head, regretting bringing up the subject. However Camille sensed I was uncomfortable. "Don't worry Christine. The opera ghost has been playing tricks on Carlotta for years, or for as long as I been here."

"Yes but who is this person and why would he do such a thing?" I asked again, concerned that my companions took this matter so lightly.

"Christine…no one knows who the opera ghost is. That's why he's called the opera ghost." Genny explained. "I thought everyone knew about him."

"Well I can tell you this…"Camille cut in. "He is certainly no ghost. If you even believe in such things as ghosts"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well no ghost could have overturned furniture or wreck a room, like what happen to La Carlotta. Ghosts are limited to the things they can do." She lowered her voice. " For example they can't write notes…"

Genny gasped. "Don't tell me you heard?"

Camille smiled. "Yes, I was M. Gabriel when the latest note from the ghost was delivered to the manager's office." She gestured for us to come away from the stage, leading us back until she managed to find the staircase that my maestro had used. I was amazed that she had found it so quickly, while I had been still searching since that night of my first lesson. "Here, let us talk here. No one uses this old staircase anyway. So when M. Debienne and Poligny retired, they left specific instructions about the ghost. Well it's obvious the new managers have ignored them."

"What instructions?" I asked

"The ghost has certain rules that must be followed. He has his own private box…"

"Little Meg's mother, Madame Giry is in charge of it." Genny interjected.

"He is allowed to make artistic decisions on the works performed and the performers and I've heard it said the M. Debienne and Poligny used to pay the ghost a salary of 20,000 francs a month." Camille continued. "Apparently he was very much against the performing of 'Orpheus' in the first place. Rumor is that the managers choose it to appeal to new audiences. Our patrons have been sitting through it politely enough, applauding our efforts, but the critics are tearing it apart. The ghost shares their opinion as well. What I overheard when I was in the office was that if they did not pull Orpheus from the program, he would make it _difficult _for the performers to continue."

"Ah, that's why he made that wreck in Carlotta's room on opening night. He was trying to upset her enough not to go on." Genny mused. "Too bad, La Carlotta is as stubborn as the ghost. She'd still go on stage, even if the ghost set her hair on fire!" she joked.

Now I was stunned. "What kind of person would do that?"

Camille smiled. "Ah you have the same thought as me Christine. I believe that this 'ghost' must in fact really be a person, someone of flesh and blood."

Genny disagreed "No person could be every where at the same time, like the ghost seems to be."

"That because the ghost is not simple one man, but many." Camille continued.

"What makes you so sure it is a man, Camille?" asked Genny. "I overheard that the ghost often ask Madame Giry for a footstool and has left a fan in Box Five"

Camille waived a dismissive hand. "Old lady Giry is as crazy as a bat! It must be a man, and a powerful one at that."

"Then explain your theory."

Camille leaned back on the stairs, still emitting her cool sense of confidence. "I believe the ghost is a powerful patron, intent on getting his way around the opera. He fancies that he should be allowed to call all the shots and get special privileges, yet he cannot reveal his true identity. So he sends anonymous notes pretending to be a ghost, and when he does not get what he demands, he reverts to sabotage. Yes, no man could have destroyed Carlotta's dressing room by himself. He must have had help. I believe that he pays off certain staff to do his bidding. People, who would be unnoticed, people with keys…"

"But why would he need a salary?" Genny posed. "If he is so rich and powerful, why does need the money anyway?"

"I knew you would try to poke a hole in my theory. I think it is to pay his helpers." Camille explained without missing a beat. "Besides, if you had enough influence to frighten people into giving you money, wouldn't you use it?"

I felt my skin prickle as her voice trailed off. "That is horrible" I said.

Camille and Genny looked at me, their eyes asking for further explanation.

"If this ghost is what you say he is Camille. A man who has enough influence and power to frighten the managers and the staff. Some one who uses fear and extortion just to have an opera run his way…then perhaps it would be better if he was simply a phantom instead."

* * *

><p>More Mozart that night at my lessons. We switched from <em>The Magic Flute<em> to _The Marriage of Figaro_.

"I hope this is suitable?" he asked. I did not answer with a quip or jovial response as I might have. My mind was too focused on my conversation earlier that day about the opera ghost. I nodded.

"Good I have been informed there is to be a change in the season. This will be the opera that follows Orpheus and we will need to get you ready for the auditions."

I stared at him puzzled as he arranged the music on the piano. He seemed to know so much about the goings on at the opera, when I knew so little about him. I was no closer to guessing his identity than I had been at our first meeting. It had not even been announced to the cast that the opera season had undergone changes.

Perhaps he was a colleague of M. Gabriel, Mercier or even the managers themselves. He must have chosen to work separate from the rest of the staff, at night were no one could look at him or his mask.

"Aren't you curious what part you will be singing?" he asked.

I snapped out of my daze. "Yes, please." I asked shuffling through my folio of music. He took it from my hands, and turned to the correct pages.

"You'll start here." He informed me and I looked down to see the line at the top of the page.

"Cherbunio?" I asked

"You are displeased." He returned my question with one of his own.

I did not feel comfortable challenging him on his decision; for I'm sure he made it with the best of intentions. "No I guess I was just surprised."

"I can understand. Cherbunio is just causally ignored as the comedic relief in this story, but I see him as more than that. He like the Countess is depressed and torn apart by love. He loves the Countess, but dares not confess his love to her. I think it takes more skill in a role with such dual points of emotions."

"I didn't doubt your judgment, Maestro." I explained. "But thank you. I do see you point."

"And I believe your voice, now is very suited for this role. The Countess is meant for a singer with preferably a more mature voice. A dramatic soprano if you will." He chose his words carefully. "Your voice as lovely as it is, still betrays your youth." He explained, sitting down at the piano. "But here we can use that to our advantage."

He started to play as I stumbled through the introductory aria. It moved like the rest of the opera at a frantic pace and I felt myself challenged more to keep up with each note and word. My Maestro was as patience as always as we moved past the first few pages.

_Love, That word that sets me hoping and fearing_

_Love, that word I'm always hearing_

_Love, ah love how can I dissemble, those desires that I hardly dare name…_

We reached one of the ending phrases, were all the words seem strung together before the final notes. I gasped to reach the notes and keep up with the pace. He struck the keys on the piano with such force, shouting encouragement.

_Only for love I languish…For love, for love I am sighing…_

"Keep going!"

The flow of the music caused me to take a break in places I did not want to breathe at. The effect was forcing my words to spill out in a frenzied pace to make the emotions of the distraught pageboy.

I managed to pull through to the end. "Close your eyes Christine and hold the last note as long as you can."

_And echo's voice replying…And even if none be near me, I talk of love alone…._

I obeyed him, hearing the chords stop. I held the last note, using all my reserved breath to sustain it.

_Talk of love alone…._

Then I was aware that he had left the piano and was now standing behind me. I felt his hand gently place itself against my stomach, pressing lightly to encourage those last breaths. I did not open my eyes.

Finally there was no more. I silenced the music and with my eyes still closed, listened as the sound of my heavy breathing echoed in the room. Now I was afraid.

"Put out your hands, Christine." He instructed in a whisper. I tried to rationalize with myself that if he has wish to harm me, he would have done so by now. I held my hands palm up in front of my sides and felt the pressure against my stomach release and then press into my hands. With his fingers, he placed something in my palm and closed my fingers around it.

"Open you eyes Christine."

I did and looked down. I could see something thin and silver within my clenched fingers. I opened them slowly than gasped.

"No…it couldn't….

The silver chain was attached to small round pendent. My fingers trembling, I opened the clasp and saw the face of my father, still sporting his mutton chops, starring back at me.

"My necklace! How did you…"

"Shall I help you put it on?" he asked. Without answering, I passed it to him and felt as his fingers brushed aside the hairs that fell lose under my bun. His touch felt electric and I felt strange yet exhilarating as his fingers grazed the back of my neck, locking the necklace close.

I reached up to push it against my chest, felling the cool metal against my skin. I turned around.

"How did you find it?" I asked in delighted shock.

He shrugged. "It was simple enough. I decided to visit each pawn shop near here, looking for a necklace that might have matched your. I asked around for a locket with a photograph of a man and a little girl. I found it on the Rue Feydeau. Once I saw the picture inside I knew it was you…"

He didn't get a chance to finish, for I flung myself at him. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my head in his chest. Propriety is damned. I was already crying tears of joy.

"Thank you! Thank you…maestro…" I cried. This time his embrace did not feel stiff as before and his arms were welcoming. His hands came up to my head, gently stroking the top of it.

"How can I ever thank you?" I pulled away and looked up into his face. It was hard to read the expression behind the mask, but I did not even see the hint of a smile on his face. He looked down at me, and I was soon aware his fingers grazed the bottom of my chin.

"Christine...if you would only..." his beautiful voice was now breaking, as if it were painful for him to speak. "Let me take care of you...then..."

I wanted to touch him. Something within me cried out for me to reach up my hands and hold his face between them. To let him know he could speak honestly with me. To let him know that I trusted him, completely.

"Never mind." he stated, his voice now even again. He withdrew from me and I felt empty away from his touch. "You are welcome, Christine."


	10. Act One: Chapter Nine

Genny shuffled through the dresses, sometime stopping to pay close attention but mostly shoving them away in disgust. I had my arms folded as I stood behind her.

I pouted. "I can't believe you talked me into this." I wasn't sure what annoyed me more. That Genny had invited me to dinner with her brothers, knowing I wouldn't have any thing proper enough to wear. Or the fact that when I told her this, she asked Madame Leroy, on my behalf, if I could borrow a dress!

Genny seemed happy to ignore my complaints as she busied herself selecting the perfect dress. "How about this one?" She held up a green frock decorated with thick cord.

I shook my head. "I can tell that dress is going to be too small, even without looking at my tape measure." I said dismissively.

"I still think you should wear this one?" she motioned to a dress lying on the back of one of the chairs. I wrinkled my nose. The dress in question was deep pink and far too low cut for my taste.

"I look horrible in that color." I pointed out. Genny stuck out her tongue.

"At least it fits you."

I made my way over to the racks, swiftly shifting each dress. The final performance was still hours away and already my palms were starting to sweat. I was already a nervous person and the thought of this evening's prospects was enough to send me over the edge. I was going to be dinning with the entire de Chagny family in one of the finest restaurants in Paris. My company included not only Genny and her brother, but the self made patriarch of the family, Comte Philippe himself.

Social gatherings, fancy late night dinner these things came natural to these people. I already knew I would be a wreck wondering if I looked and acted appropriately. Wondering if the members of high society could smell out someone who didn't belong.

And I would again risk missing my lesson. The night Raoul had visited us; I had hastily made my way to the stage, even this time managing to find my way to the stairs. He had been waiting for me and suggested coldly that we skip the lesson for the evening. I pleaded with him not to, promising that I would be more prompt in the future.

Our lessons had been going so well. I couldn't bring myself to ask him about tonight. I promised myself that I would make my excuses as early as I could. I even left a note by the stairs, explaining myself and begging forgiveness, and I had made Genny promise to bring me back here to the opera after supper.

What did you have in mind then?" Genny asked, annoyed. "Since you have rejected all of my suggestions?"

I reached in and pulled out a dress to show to her. I had actually had my eye on it for quite some time. It was a modestly cut dress with elegant rows of satin covered buttons running down the back and sleeves.

Genny's eyes widened. "It's gray." She said bluntly.

I frowned. "That's all you have to say about it?"

"It's at least a decade old and it's gray…"

At this I laughed. "No it isn't. Madame Leroy had this dress made three seasons ago, so it's not that old. And it's not gray. It's sliver." I corrected.

"Sliver, slate you can call it the emperor's hat if you want to, it's still grey." Genny smirked. "Trust me I know about these things."

This remark from any other person might appear rude. To say I know about these things because I live in a world of fashion and you are so poor that you must borrow a dress. These things were true, but in our long years as friends despite our differences in class, Genny had never pointed that out.

In fact she seemed determined to drag me into the frays and frolics of the elite, despite my protests. I had begged off attending parties long enough. This time I was stuck. I had to keep telling myself that it wouldn't be so bad. I would be in the company of a well respected family, friends with them so what did it matter what others thought. This was supposed to be an experience.

And I could see Raoul again.

* * *

><p>To my great relief, the dinner was not as nerve-wracking as I imagined it to be. Genny had insisted on dinning in a causal cafe versus an elegant private restaurant. The dinning room was decorated in a cozy fashion and we sat off in a private corner with a full view of the guests and the dance floor. As soon as we had entered, Genny was given a round of applause from the dinner guests who had just come from the opera.<p>

I was surprised upon meeting the Comte for the first time that I had recognized him. I had seen him at the opera many times before, backstage after the performances. He was constantly chasing the skirts of the prima ballerina, La Soreli and made no indication that he was ashamed of his behavior. Over dinner, he shattered my impressions of him as the serious elder brother. He laughed as we all shared stories of our summer times at the coast. He even lamented that he had been too old to join us in our adventures back then.

I was soon aware that I was not as excited to see Raoul as I thought I would be. He was the model of a perfect gentleman to me as we talked after our meal. At the same time he was considerate, moving the conversation to topics we could all talk about so I would not feel left out.

But as the evening grew longer, I realized that my heart did not feel the same rush in the company of my friends as it did when I was in my lesson with my maestro. I was anxious to return to the opera, to immerse myself in my lesson. I had known Raoul for many years, but he still felt like a stranger to me. I had known the maestro a few weeks. He was the true stranger, yet I felt a connection to him that was beyond one I would feel for a teacher. Just being near him made me happier than singing.

Slowly, I comprehended why and the thought sent a blush to my cheeks that could have been seen across the restaurant. I pulled out my fan to cover my face.

_How can I dissemble those desires that I hardly dare name?_

As soon as the idea entered my mind, I desperately tried to push it away. I thought what the maestro would say if I had admitted that to him. He would laugh. He was a grown man who despite his kindness, view me no more than a young girl. A silly costume girl with fantasies of becoming an opera star.

I would never tell him. Maybe this feeling would go away.

Philippe proposed a toast. "This evening has been a true delight." he said, reaching over to fill my glass. "Miss Daae, would you care to start us off."

I took a second to think of something proper to say. "To family and friends, old and new." I said. The Comte nodded at me and smiled.

"To these beautiful ladies and that we may soon see them on the stage together." added Raoul. We all raised our glasses.

Genny stood up abruptly and raised her glass over the rest of us. "And to the Angel of Music! Who has blesses us and watches over us!" she exclaimed. I looked over at her, noticing the glassy look in her eyes. The same look I had seen in when she had told me of the angel.

Raoul and Philippe looked at their sister with concern, then to me. I lowered my eyes.

"Yes, I have no doubt that the Angel has watched over you both." Raoul stated.

"Indeed. To the Angel of Music." Philippe announced as our raised glasses finally to meet each others.

* * *

><p>I instructed the driver to pull the carriage around the side of the opera to an entrance that was used by the artists and was often kept open and well lit until midnight. Raoul helped us each from the coach and then rested a hand on my shoulder.<p>

"Christine, may I have a quick word with you?"

I nodded. His arm interlinked with mine as he led me to the other side of his carriage. "Is this about Genny?" I asked anticipating his question.

"No, I'm concerned about you Christine. What are your plans for the future?"

I was surprised at him. "I'm not sure."

"Surely you have plans for a career on stage. You already have a music teacher."

"Yes, but I'm not sure why this is a concern of yours." I asked. He was silence for a few seconds. I could hear Genny calling out for me.

He sighed. "What I'm trying to say that as your friend, I would like to offer my assistance to help your career. A woman in your position could benefit from having a patron. Someone to help you with your singing career."

My eyes widened at the suggestion, as I thought of the other girls in the chorus who had so called 'patrons'. "Raoul...I..."

His face curled in revulsion. "No that came out all wrong. Damn. It wouldn't be anything like what you're thinking. I am an honest man."

"And you are a rich man." I pointed out, wanting to end this conversation.

"Yes and I can use my position to help you. And we would still be friends." he squeezed my arm and looked sincerely at me. "If you would let me."

"No thank you Raoul." I replied. "I much rather make my own success, if I am destined for any at all." He looked at me disappointed. "I trust my music teacher to help me with my decisions. I valued you more as my friend than anything else."

"Christine. Come along. I'm freezing out here." Genny called.

We walked around the other side. Raoul released my arm so I could walk ahead of him as we made our way to the door. "I'll be right back." I told him.

He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Christine, I want to let you know, that I value you, more than just a friend." His chocolate brown eyes pinned me with a look of sincerity. Even though it was only October, the breeze in the air was cold enough to make his wispy breath visible to me, and I watched it intently pass from his lips.

His face came closer to mine. I wanted to protest. Raoul shouldn't have said those. He shouldn't have let me know. His lips were hot against the cold skin of my cheek. I recalled our first kiss on the beach at Perros and wondered if he was thinking about the same thing. He left me, the simple kiss burning me.

We went straight to Genny's dressing room were I changed out of the dress and back into my own simple clothes. As I went to return the dress, I tried to make my excuse.

"Thank you again for dinner, Genny. I'll see you soon I hope."

"Yes we have a few days before we start into rehearsals." Genny said, not missing another opportunity to check her reflection in the mirror.

"Goodnight then." I went to shut the door and hurry off to my lesson.

"Wait, Christine. I'll take you home." She offered.

"Oh no thank you…"

"It's late and I know you do not have any work to finish. Why do you think I planed this dinner for closing night?" She protested. "Besides, it's too late for you to walk home...alone" she added.

I frowned. "All right. I'll be right back."

As I made my way down the corridors, I racked my mind to think of any excuse I could give to refuse Genny's offer. Such was my frustration that I realized halfway to my destination that I had left my bag with my keys to the storage area in Genny's room. I turned and sighed, heading back down the hall I had just came. Still blank with an excuse, I returned to the hall of dressing rooms. The gaslights had been turned down.

I turned the corner and saw Genny, at the end of the hall. She turned to the left and I glimpse her face in profile. She seemed to be in trance as she made her way down the hallway that lead out to the stage.

I opened my mouth to call out and then shut it in terror.

Between me and the end of the hallway, a black cloaked figure emerged from the dressing room that had been next to Genny's. This corridor was strictly for female singers and the shade was far too tall to be a woman. It didn't notice me and stalked after Genny. I pressed my back up against the wall on the dark side of the corridor as he turned the corner, praying he wouldn't see me.

I was frozen with fear and in any other situation; I would have run away and saved myself. My heart slammed against my chest. That thing was after my friend, and for every second I stood here, he was getting one step closer.

I took off after them, keeping my footsteps as light as possible, but it was my breathing that was the loudest sound I made. Turing to the left, then the right, up a corridor that had a slight ramp leading up to the stage. At last I had a clean view of them both. Standing back in the wings, I saw Genny turn on the stage, looking around. Around she spun and she must have clearly seen the shade behind her, for he made no move to hide himself.

Stiffly my feet moved me forward. Genny stood still and the shade took another step forward. The look on her face was a dazed one. The same haunting look that she had upon her face when she spoke of her mysterious angel. We both moved closer and closer to her.

As I came closer, I heard something else in the silence. I heard…singing.

Finally I could contain myself no longer.

"Genny!" I cried out and began to run forward.

She did not look at me but the shade did. It turned it head in my direction, but by then it was too late.

Throwing my entire weight, I lunged at the shade. A final burst of air and gasps escaped us both as we fell to the ground. I realized then that I still carried the dress in my hands. In a tangle of limbs we both struggled to get to our feet. I threw the dress at the shade's face, or the place a face would be, for I could see nothing among his black hood. This gave me the advantage and I stood up first, running over to Genny.

I shook her shoulders, shouting. "Genny, you have to run!" This seemed to snap her out her state and she looked at the shade, still fallen on the floor. She screamed and I took her hand and ran.

We made our way down the steps of the stage, and down the left aisle, running all the way back to the far exits. Flinging through the doors, we made our way down the main halls of the opera, out to the elegant foyer. I did not look back to see if we were being followed, for I knew that we were.

We stepped onto the landing, breathless. A stair case separated us from the main floor. I turned Genny to face me and saw her face was white with terror.

"Go!" I commanded. "Go down these stairs and get out of the opera. Don't stop."

She shook her head frantically. "No… no…" she murmured.

We were running out of time. "Yes you have to. I'll make my way to the back entrance." I squeezed her hands tight. "Trust me." As I tried to comfort her by holding her hands, I realized my own were trembling.

She started to nod and I pushed her back.

"Go" I whispered. I spared only a second to watch her descend the first few steps. Then I turned and retreated up the opposite stair and back towards the stage. As I rounded the foyer, my view distorted by the columns as I ran I could see Genny disappear.

And then the shade appeared and ran up the stairs…in my direction.

I quicken my pace to a speed I wouldn't have even guessed I could ever reach. My breathing echoed nosily in the hall and my throat felt raw. I found one of the doors that lead backstage, twisting the lock behind it. I wanted to cry for help, but was fearful that my pursuer would tack my location by my cries.

All the lights back stage were turned down. Some were even shut off entirely which was strange since at least some lights were left on after dark. So I stumbled on my way backstage. I thought after two months working at the opera, I knew my way around, but I was lost among the countless doors and corridors.

Before I knew were I was going, I found myself back on the stage on the left side near the fly rail. I tripped over something and started to fall. My hand stretched out and I managed to grasp one of the ropes to stop myself.

Feeling the wind knocked out of me, I used the ropes to pull myself up. I turned and saw across the stage, between the large backdrops and crisscrossed ropes, the shade pass by. He stopped and looked at me. Even though I could not see his eyes I knew that he was staring directly at me.

"How…." The question escaped my lips involuntary. I doubled back out the door I had just emerged from and resumed running. I managed to find my way to a place of familiarity; the costume storage area beneath the stage. I reached for the door and as my hands touched the handle I cursed.

My keys! I growled in frustration and slammed my fist against the door. To my surprise, it creaked open. I tested the handle again and saw that it was unlocked. I dashed in, and locked the door behind me.

The familiar musky scent of the clothes, stacked and stuffed tightly assaulted my nostrils. I made my way to the center and pushed aside a rack, diving in among the costumes.

I stood stiff as a board, my breath raspy and my chest heaving. My hands were shaking as well as my knees. My feet finally still could now start to feel the throbbing pain run through them. But I was safe.

I had left Genny near enough to the exits to get out within a few minutes. She was surely safe now that I had made the shade follow me halfway through the opera. I would wait here, until I caught my breath. No, perhaps I would stay here longer behind the safety of a locked door.

I could even fall asleep here tonight, my head propped against the thick dresses and garments.

I waited for long moments, my mind surprising blank and quiet. I think I nodded off for a minute or two, for I felt my head jerk slightly and I blinked.

Stepping out of my hiding place, I calculated the nearest exit from the storage area.

My hand was snatched from behind me, pulling me back. The fingers that grabbed it were cold and boney things and they pressed a vice like grip at the joint of my wrist.

I cried out in pain and was spun around with in an unnatural and excruciating fashion to face the shade. Even standing this close, I could not make out any features beneath the black cloak. His grip tightened and the sting of it forced my tired body down onto my knees.

Somehow, I managed to find my voice. "Please…don't…." I started. "Do what you want with me, but please don't hurt my friend. Please. Please." I begged. If he had managed to find me, despite locked doors, then he probably had caught Genny as well. My head fell down between my shoulders and I started to cry

A swift breath escaped from under his hood. He scoffed.

"What makes you think that I was after her?" he whispered. His voice, cold and flat was like out of a nightmare. "What makes you so sure that you weren't the one I wanted to catch…Persephone?"

At that I jerked up only to be greeted with a wet cloth slapped against my face and held there firmly with his other hand. I struggled. My open mouth let some of the liquid pour in.

My struggles stopped and my world faded into darkness.

End of Act One

* * *

><p>AN: Now that we are about nine chapters in, I think it's all right if I take the time to make a few points. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed and put me on their story alerts. I haven't written "phan phiction" in about 4 years so I'm all little out of the loop in the whole community. If you like this story so far, tell your friends or anyone else who might like Phantom!

Christine- Yes just like the Kopit and Yeston version, Christine in this story starts out working at the opera as a dresser (I prefer that term or wardrobe assistant versus 'costume girl' which sounds like an insult. I've worked in the costume industry and studied theatre and I've never heard that term used in a real world context) I did this for two reasons. First when we meet Christine in the Leroux novel, she is already in the chorus and working her way up. In opera, members of the chorus take turns playing leading roles and there are only a handful of stars and divas. Many of the well known works of opera involve very little involvement of a full blown chorus in every scene, since most the story and action is the lead characters. So when we are introduced to our heroine, she is already in a position of stardom and she had a relationship with Erik/The Angel from earlier on that we never get to read about. Making her a working girl for me, makes Christine connect more with her common man (or in this case woman) Secondly, having her gift for singing still remained in tact, despite not having training and then achieving success makes it a "Cinderella" story. Perhaps I'm a romantic when I come to these things, but hey, I am the author :) Also we get a chance to establish a face to face relationship between Erik and Christine, which to me makes it more shocking and frightening when he finally abducts her.

Also notes on the translations. I was using two resources of Mozart's _Le Nozze di Figaro_ while writing the lyrics in the music lesson scenes. One was from a score and the other from the libretto in an opera guide. When I compared them side by side, I noticed different words to each of the aria. Unsure which one is correct, I chose the translation that I thought fit better with the context of the scene. There is more of this opera in the next act. I'm not completely sure why there are differences in Lorenzo Da Ponte's text. If anyone knows the answer, feel free to share it with me. (Side note: If you've never seen/heard Mozart's _Le Nozze de Figaro_, go out and get a copy! Now. Rent if from the library or see it live if you can!)

Okay, again to all who have been sticking with this so far. Upcoming lots of E/C awkward angst, characters getting their comeuppances, and plenty of opera!

Your obedient servant, P.C.


	11. Act Two: Chapter One

Hallow Notes: Act Two

The Marriage of Figaro

My terrible dreams finally ended and I awoke. It felt like I had been asleep for weeks and each sleep was filled with an endless string of nightmares. I was being chased, running down the same dark passages over and over again. Praying to wake up.

Turning over, I felt my whole face throb, even as it came into contact with something soft. I pressed a hand against my cheek and moaned finally opening my eyes. I was in a bed, for I could see the soft white shades of bed clothes and pillow cases. I looked down at my toes, wiggling them to assure me they were still there. A large down stuffed blanket covered my body from my neck to my feet. The bed itself was more than enough to support my small frame. I had ample room from where my feet stop to the end of the foot board and plenty of space to stretch out my arms to either side. Placing my hands to my sides, I pushed off the mattress. As I did I noticed my left hand felt heavier than the other.

I glanced and saw the gold stag bracelet that Genny had worn with her Diana costume. I stared at in confusion, remembering clearly that I had locked it in a drawer before we had left for dinner the following night. I had to admit it fitted on my wrist nicely, not gapping or wiggling loose.

Then I bent forward to open the clasp and look underneath it.

Bruises. Small purple and brownish marks the shape of fingers, around my wrist. Where the shade had gripped my skin and bones so fiercely. The memory of the pain I felt came flooding back to me as I reluctantly closed the bracelet once more.

A small candle was place a few feet from the bed and from its light I could start to make out the features of the room I found myself in. The bed was placed firmly against the wall. Shadows of objects, furniture I assumed surrounded it. I tossed aside the covers, letting the chill of the air greet my limbs.

I saw that my blouse and skirt were gone and I was left only in my underpinnings. Embarrassed and cold I reached under the covers, pulling at the sheets. Using it as a cloak, I stood and went to the candle. The shadows were a collection of bookcases, tall dressers, armories, chests and a vanity table, all in different shades of brown. At the foot of the bed was a cream wood chair with red padded back and seat. It looked very old fashion reflecting a design of the previous century. In fact on closer inspection, all the furniture despite its lovely quality was mismatched. The bed had four posters, but no canopy. Only lengths of sheer fabric that draped from the tops. A chest on one side had large leather straps and looked medieval.

However, my searches discovered no trace of my clothes. I went to the large wardrobe and opened the doors. Inside were dozens of elegant dresses. As I surveyed each one, they all seemed vaguely familiar. Then I spotted a hint of silver, and pushed the other garments aside.

The dress I had worn to dinner with Raoul starred back at me from the rack.

Of course I thought, these were all dresses I had seen before. They were from the costume department. I sighed, noting that each one was detailed with laces and frills. Far too extravagant for my tastes.

I checked through the drawers of the other dressers hoping to find a nightgown, blouse or shift. I pulled open one and found it filled with decadent corsets and lingerie . They lay open in pretty store boxes, still with tissue paper wrapping.

Slamming the drawer with disgust, I fell to the floor. My head in my hands I began to weep as I reasoned and realized what was going on. I had been abducted, there was no doubt of that. I had awoken in a strange room obviously filled with pretty things that my captor thought would please me. Dresses he wanted me to wear, trinkets he stole. I sat there afraid to move.

It was a long time before I stopped , driven by the increasingly cold air to seek out warmer clothes. I slipped on the silver dress, doing the buttons in the back as high as my fingers could reach. As I dressed I could here the room start to fill with soft music. My attention turned to the direction of the sound, finally focusing on the only door in the room. Set against the brick wall, the ordinary door looked out of sorts with the elegant dressing of the room. I went to it and noticed it had no lock or keyhole.

I pressed my head and hands against the door, listening to the music and planning my next move. This door was my only way out. It was open so I could leave if I wished, but I also noticed I could not keep anyone from coming in if I wanted. My captor would eventually show himself and I shuddered to think of the things he had in store for me.

I could not even conceive of who the shade might have been, or why he had pursued me. He had made an elaborate attempt to catch Genny even though I was his original target. My thoughts turned to my friend. I wondered if she was safe or even alive. And if she was, what did she think had happened to me?

Who would believe her if she went for help and where would they look?

I was lost. I did not even know where I was and I doubted if I would ever know.

The music caressed my ears, as if attempting to calm my dismal thoughts. It seemed familiar.

Then I had a reason to hope. My Maestro. He would know I was in trouble. If I failed to appear for my lessons, he could discover I was missing. My heart leaped at the thought. He had been so kind to me. I had only to think about my necklace. My simple loss had become a great concern to him. He had gone out of his way to retrieve it for me. Surely he would be motivated to find out what had happened to me. Already I could imagine a meeting between him and Genny, and she telling him all.

He was very clever. Despite his mysterious and withdrawn nature, I could discern he was extremely talented. He wouldn't stop until he found me. He would rescue me!

I repeated my affirmations under my breath as I twisted the door knob and bravely went through.

_ He will find me. He will come for me._

I looked up into a ceiling, honeycombed with unfinished masonry. It was as if someone had attempted to cover it with plaster but gave up. I was above a large grand room. Outside the door was a small wooden landing attached to a craftily constructed open staircase that spiraled down. The texture of the walls was the same as the ceiling. In one part of the room was a sitting area, furnished in a similar mismatched style as my room had been. Oriental rugs littered the floor in contrasting shades. Plush couches, arm chairs and even an antique looking rocking chair sat over them. A large grand piano sat off to the corner, covered with sheets of music.

The other half of the room was divided with a small partition made of canvas. It was in fact the backdrop depicting a pastoral scene. I could see over it a small stove, miscellaneous boxes and a row of doors hidden in shadow.

In the back of the room was the focal piece of the area. A larger than life pipe organ against the misshapen wall, the source of the music. The console looked expensive and well maintained, but the pipes were so twisted I was surprised they could still produce music. Some lay flat but the large ones seemed to vanish inside the wall only to appear on the other side. They bent forward to avoid colliding with the ceiling. The mass of pipes appeared like the legs of a giant spider, spreading itself across the room towards me.

A man sat at the organ, unaware of my presence. With a confidence that was foolish of me to assume I shut the door and made my way down the stairs. I walked into the make shift sitting area, my bare feet spread over the thick rugs. I wanted to knock something over or throw something at him.

He stopped playing and turned on the organ bench. I took a deep breath waiting to see his face. It would bring me satisfaction knowing this fool would soon face my rage and that of my teacher.

Our eyes met. Two yellow eyes starring at me from underneath a black mask

My hands flew to my face in horror and I murmured into them.

"No….no…no…."

_Maestro….._

* * *

><p><em>I watched as Christine looked at me with utter disgust. Her frail white hands blocked her face, as if she could deny the truth by not looking at me. But there was no denying it for either of us.<em>

_ She became so overcome that her legs started to shake and she fell into a nearby arm chair. Her eyes went wide with shock finally giving away to tears of disbelief. I left my music and rushed to her side, thinking desperately of what to say._

_I would not lie to her. Any lie would be as hurtful as the truth. I had taken her. I had spirited her away from the world above to be with me. I had done it out of love. I knew what I was doing all along. Yet I could not bring myself to confess all at that moment. Not while my angel sat before me, hurt and confused. _

_ I knelt on the floor, careful not to look into her eyes. Not yet anyway. I scooped up the hem of her dress in my hands, already recognizing the familiar scent of her on it. Bringing it to my face, I kissed it tenderly, burying my face in the soft fabric._

_ "Christine...forgive me." I begged._

_ I could hear her tears stop but her breathing still echoed around the room. _

"_Forgive me for what I have done. But I had to." I turned my head and looked at her frighten face. "I know you will understand...with time."_

_ "Maestro, why?" she asked helplessly. "Why do I have to forgive you?"_

_ She knew that I had taken her, but she did not know where or why. My dear Christine. In that moment was I uncertain if I should tell her. Would it have been better for us if I kept silent?_

_ "Where am I?" she asked and started to get to her feet. I moved aside as she looked around the room frantically. Watching her, being so close to her made me forget all my rational thoughts. I then felt no obligation to tell her anything. All she needed to know was that I loved her. I would move our relationship forward from teacher and student to something greater, and she would worship me for it. I was certain of this, otherwise I would not have moved forward with my plans. I would have left are alone all together. Reaching out, I grabbed her hand in mine._

_ "No!" she jerked and for an instant, I tighten my grip determined to hold her. But I released it as she flung her hand back. "Don't touch me!"_

_ Her remark left me feeling cold and angry. My same beautiful student who had twice fallen into my open embrace now shrank from my touch. _

_ "I trusted you!" she challenged. "I trusted you enough to tell you things that I did not even tell my friends or my guardian. I thought that you..." she stuttered. "that you had started to care for me...like I did you." At that she covered her mouth with her hands, embarrassed at what she had said._

_ I had suspected this. At first, I had dismissed it as an utterly foolish idea. And yet I had secretly prayed for it to be true. _

_ "I do care for you Christine, more than you realized." I offered, taking a few steps closer to her. "And it seems you care about me in this same way, even if you are reluctant to admit it."_

_ "No!" she cried, putting her hands in front of her chest. "You hurt me! I loved you and you hurt me." She removed the bracelet from her hand and thrust it forward. I saw the trademark shades of my handiwork. She then threw the bracelet at me. Despite her terrible aim , I managed to catch it before it hit the ground. I kept my composure as she yelled at me, but her words echoed in my mind and in my heart._

_ **I loved you...**_

_ "I don't know where I am. You hurt me, you've taken me and I..." her tears still flowed across her red face. "I don't even know you."_

_ Swiftly I moved to stand behind her, not giving her any time to move away. I grabbed both her arms and forced her to look at me. I chose my words carefully._

_ "I am simply Erik." I said. She did not struggle against me, but I could tell by the look in her eyes, she loathed my touch. I had thought things would be different. In confessing my true name, I had stripped away the mask of my identity._

_ Metaphorically that is._

_ "Erik..." she repeated my name and it felt wonderful to hear it from her lips. I had not been called by my name in a long time. And when I was called by that name it had always been in hatred and terror. Then she moved her hands out of my grip and placed them on my chest. I prayed she did not hear the pounding my heart made. Her fingers reached up and I knew what they were reaching for. My reflexes sprang into action and I caught her fingers in my grip._

_ "Don't Christine." I warned. "You don't know what you are doing."_

_ "I know your name and if you are honest and repentance for what you have done, then you would show me you face." she reasoned through clenched teeth, betraying her still untrusting nature. _

_ "I cannot..." I said simply, taking her hands in mind. Since I wore no gloves in my home, I relished the feel of her skin against mind. "I can say that I am deeply sorry if I've hurt you. That is something I would never want to do. But I am not sorry for what I have done, and I will never show you the face behind this mask."_

_ "Why not? What is so horrible that you have to hide it away?"_

_ I sighed. She knew so little._

_ "I have already concluded that you have a reason to hide your face. If you have been scarred or maimed, you have no reason to be ashamed of it with me. Or is it something else you hide behind that mask that will make me more frightened of you than I am now." she explained, but her words were not effective on me._

_ "Enough, Christine. I have my reasons."_

_ "The same reasons why you did not tell my your true name before, the same reason you had for abducting me?"_

_ "Yes, for I do all these things in the name of love." she shrank back. "Ah that is not what you want to hear, my dear but it is true." I shifted my left hand to hold both of hers while deftly grabbing for a handkerchief in my pocket. I brought it to her face feeling a great sense of pride that my beloved would let me wipe the tears from her eyes. "I have brought you here in the name of love. A love that you have even admitted to."_

_ She shook her head in denial, preventing me from caressing her. "But...where am I? Where have you brought me?" I moved once again to touch her but she refused me. " And tell me the truth!"_

_ I sighed, releasing her. "You are in a place where you will be safe. A place where all your desires will be met." I pressed a hand against my chest and bowed my head. "I will be your humble and devoted servant Christine. Here we will devote ourselves completely to music." _

_ My comments did not draw a smile from her. She still looked at me intently her eyes moving from fear to hatred. I stepped away from her, returning to my organ and my forgotten music. _

_ My voice was deeper as I spoke again. "You are in a place where no one will find you." I started, afraid to look at her. I had told myself I would be truthful. " You are five levels beneath the ground, in the cellars of the opera. This is a place...that you will never leave."_

_ Leaving a moment of silence after my last words, I glanced over my shoulder to see my angel on the floor. Her hands in her lap and her features frozen in hopeless shock._

_ "All that I have told you...is the truth, Christine."_

* * *

><p>I sat on the floor, the horrible words ringing in my ears. I felt so betrayed and mislead. Not by my Maestro, but by myself.<p>

"Christ..." I cursed as I started to finally put the pieces together. I looked at him across the room, my masterful teacher and now my kidnapper. It finally made sense. His strange appearances out of the shadows, his knowledge of the opera and his anonymity. I had tried to reason with myself over these things, because I had been blinded by his kindness. "You...are the Opera Ghost." I said blankly. "You are the Phantom..."

His body seemed to sag as I spoke and he looked away again. "I promise from this moment on to be truthful with you Christine." he said. "I am the Opera Ghost. How tragic that the only way I can live is not as a man but as a ghost...a shadow." he mused with a strange laugh in his voice.

I stood. "But why? Why do you live like this?Why did you do those things." He didn't answer me. "You wrecked Carlotta's room, didn't you? You know she blames me for that?"

"Christine, do not let anger cloud your judgement. I did all of those things for you. I have great plans for you Christine, for your voice and your career. I promised that I would make you a great singer. You only need to trust me a little longer and you will see. My planning will lead to a glorious future..."

I cut him off. " Was kidnapping me part of your plans?"

"Yes." he growled "There was no other way to get you to come."

"You might have tried another way." I said firmly.

He shook his head. "Would you have come if I asked?"

Now I was speechless. If I had not been afraid of my own feelings. If I have had more time with my maestro. That night of our last lesson, when he struggled to speak. Was he trying to ask me then? Would I have come with my maestro if I had known him to be the phantom?

"No..." I admitted defeated.

He came by my side again, taking my limp arm and crooking it against his. "Come Christine. I am deeply sorry that I have hurt you, and in time, I hope that in time we can forget about all this."

I shook my head. My poor maestro. He seemed as deluded as I had been.

"Here you can devote yourself completely to music. I have seen to your every need and care. If there is something that doesn't please you, we can change it. There are no distractions here, no work no responsibilities, no regrets. Those who have harmed you, cannot touch you here." he continued.

Was the only bright spot on my kidnapping that I wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder to see if Frederich was there? Or would I now have to cast my suspicions on Erik.

"I have rearranged the opera season for you. You are worthy of a spot in the limelight and I will train your voice so that it is perfect. In two weeks you will audition for the managers and I am sure you will secure the role of Cherbunio. After that, more great things are in store for you Christine. Trust me."

I knew full well what he meant even if he did not say it. He would see to it that I got the role, no matter how my audition went. And he would progress my career strictly through his influence.

He had walked me over to the grand piano and shuffled through the music on the top. He handed me a sheet and excitingly struck a few chords. "Come Christine, let us sing." he suggested.

I dropped the music to the floor. "No I can't..."

He looked at me concerned and raised his fingers to my chin, bringing our eyes to meet again. "Why?"

"Because I can only sing when I am happy."

* * *

><p>I spent the rest of the day in the room Erik had prepared for me. My racing thoughts brought me no comfort but only managed to send me into long sessions of dreamless sleep.<p>

Erik did come to my door once with a tray of food. I did not open the door for him, waiting for him to open it himself, but he did not. I waited for long passing minutes.

"How much longer are you going to stand outside my door?" I shouted, picking up on the shoes from the closet and flinging it at the door.

His respond was a low sigh. "Christine, I have hurt you, so from this point on, I will not do anything with out your approval. That is why I have not come into your room."

I moved to the door, pressing myself against it. Even though I was still full of anger, I felt a sense of longing to hear his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"You need to eat, but I will not force you to. I have been bold enough to touch you, to hold your hands. I will not do that again without first asking you. And I will not cross the threshold of your room without your permission." he explained.

Once again he sounded like the sincere man I thought loved. I wanted to trust him again. I could not forgive him for what he did to me. I was trapped here for god knows how long, and without his company, it would be miserable for me.

"Thank you Erik..." his name seemed strange to speak. "I'm afraid I am not hungry."

"Very well." came his reply from the other side.

I did not hear the shuffle of feet and after waiting a few moments I moved away back towards the bed.

"Christine..."

I rushed back. "Yes?"

"May I sit outside your door?" he asked in a voice that sounded pitiful. I sank to my knees. My old self wanted to open the door and collapse into his arms. To forgive and forget just for the excited sensations I felt when he sang and when he held me.

Instead I pressed my back to the door, and curled my knees up to my chest.

"Yes, Erik."


	12. Act Two: Chapter Two

I finally came out of my room on what I assumed was the next morning. Even though my surrounding were still strange to me, I walked around them in a causal manner, most likely brought along by my sense of defeat.

Erik was in the sitting room, curled up in an arm chair with a book. It looked strange this masterful man with his long limbs hanging awkwardly over the arms of the chairs. He straighten up as soon as he heard the sound of my door close. He met me at the stairs, his arms clasped behind his back.

"Would you like some breakfast?"he asked as I descended the last step. The empty pain in my stomach was hard to ignore and my mouth felt dry.

"Yes please." I answered. He gestured with his arm to for me to move forward. He had returned to his stiff formality of our first few encounters. We made our way behind the partition that separated the main sitting room. I sat a simple table in Erik's make shift kitchen.

"I apologize for the food, mademoiselle." he explained setting before me a plate of sliced fruit and bread. "Even in the best of circumstances, I am not great cook. The food in my home is simple to say the least."

I noticed he did not have a plate for himself.

"Have you already eaten?" I asked

He sighed. All night my ears had been full of the sound of his sighs. It pained me to hear them. "No I confess I do not eat much. Only out of necessity."

I ate my food in silence, as Erik watched. Glancing around I saw the kitchen was a sparse place indeed. There were no cupboards or cabinets, just simple crates stacked against the wall. After I finished I waited for him.

"There is no need for you to stay in your room Christine. Everything here is at your disposal." He informed me. "If you wish to avoid me, you need only ask." He sounded pitiful. His sighs, his tone of voice and his manners diminished my anger towards him. I did not hate him. Changed as he might be in my eyes, he was still my teacher. I was upset with him, but not enough to send him away.

I let him give me a tour of his home. I saw few doors covered in shadows but he did not tell me what lay beyond them and we did not pass through them. Instead of proper rooms, he had carved out closets and holes in the foundation to place his belongings. One side of the room, below mind was a wall of pane glass, covered with various curtains. Upon closer expectation, I saw that it was a mirror and I thought this was a curious piece of décor. Erik offered no explanation why it was there.

He showed off his small library with a great deal of pride. "Do you like to read, Christine? I confess my library is mostly filled with music, but I have other books that might suite your tastes."

"I like very much to read."

He pulled some books from the shelf and presented them to me. I saw works of Plato, Aristotle and Ovid as many of the other classics.

"Do you have any Tacitus?" I inquired. Then seeing a look of puzzlement in his eyes ,I smiled at him. "Does that surprise you that I ask for that."

"A little." He admitted. "I thought young ladies were more taken with romance and poetry when it came to books. Alas I do not own any works of Tacitus."

"I do enjoy poetry." I said choosing a volume of Ovid. "But I've always been more interested in history. I have read the Annuals before. My godfather made his best effort to give me a proper education, not only in music and the classics."

"I see. Do you live with your god parents? I assume they are the guardians you often speak of."

I moved over to the sitting area. "No, only my godmother, Mamma Valerius But I feel like a child calling her that. My father was good friends of the late Professor Valerius who we lived with. Both of them died a few years ago, and now it is just me and Madame." I explained.

"And the other?"

I knew who he was referring to without asking. "Yes…"

He moved towards me, still keeping a respectful distance as I took a seat on the chaise. "I'm sorry this subject doesn't sit well with you. I can tell. I won't speak of it."

"Thank you." I opened the book, not exactly eager to start reading, but grateful for any distraction. My eyes only glossed over the pages of books for my mind was far away. Thinking of the outside. Was it raining or was it pleasant and sunny? What was Genny doing? I was concerned if she would tell anyone. Surely she would have run to the police by now, seeing that I had not returned from that night we were chased. I wondered if anyone believed her and if they did would they try and find me. Could they find me?

Then noticed like in the kitchen, Erik did not join me and in my activity but stood to my side watching me.

"Do you not wish to read?"

"No. I'm afraid I do not have the attention to devote to a book right now." He offered.

"Well then I am I keeping you from something?"

"No, I wish to stay here with you…" he stated. "If you will allow me…"

I put down my book. "You are content just to watch me?" I asked aloud

"I would find it a great pleasure if you permitted me to…unless…."

I felt my hands shake at this line of questioning. My teacher who had been so composed with words and actions now stumbled. He who possessed many talents seem content to wait at my side like a dog.

"Shall I play for you instead, Christine?" he offered.

"If you wish."

He turned to take a seat at the piano.

"I was wondering….do you play the violin maestro?" I ventured

"Well enough." He said humbly "Would you rather hear the violin?

I nodded excitingly, ignoring the book in my lap. He left and returned from one of his closet with a violin. I watched in awe as he tuned a few strings then brought down his bow, making the instrument sing with effortless ease. He was more than "well enough" he was a genius with the bow as much as he was with the keys of the piano. I forgot my desperate situation and my strange surrounding as I focused on him playing.

My heart sank when he stopped. I stood and went to his side, his eyes never leaving me as I walked. "May I see it?" I asked

He handed me the instrument and I noticed now as his fingers brushed past mine a new sensation. I held onto them, feeling the hard callus tips of his fingers against my skin. The hands of a violinist…just like my father.

"Was your father a musician?" Erik asked.

I was startled at first but I finally answered. "Yes, a great one."

"You are his daughter, so I have no doubt of his talents"

I clutched the violin to my chest. "He was a violinist. When I was younger I begged him to teach me to play, but I did not have the hands for it. Not hands…like yours."

At that statement he withdrew his hand from mind and turned his back to me. A few moments of silence pasted between us and I wonder if my comments had offended him.

"Christine…" he said softly. "If you would allow me, I would only play you pleasant melodies. I would play until my fingers bled if it would make you happy…and if you would sing for me…"

Defeated, I placed the violin down on the table.

"No. Not now…" I sighed.

* * *

><p><em> The next days passed without much incident between us. Christine would dress and join me downstairs. She ate the simple meals I prepared for her and spent most of the day reading. Sometime she would sketch on paper I provided for her. Other time she would simple lie on one of the chaises, staring up until she feel asleep.<em>

_ I played for her whenever she requested. Sometimes on the violin and then on the piano. She wept at the beauty of my music, but she did not smile because of it. And she did not sing. I resigned myself to be happy with this result. I had expected no less than her hatred of me and was surprised so far that she sought out my company._

_ Early one morning I left my home, leaving a note to inform Christine of my absence. I locked the doors inside of my house, but without telling her, I left the main door to the outside unlocked. It was a test. I left bits of paper between the cracks of the door, so when opened they would scatter. It was up to Christine whether she chose the perils of the opera cellars instead of my devoted companionship. _

_ Upon returning and seeing that the doors remained as I had left them, I was overjoyed. I saw Christine as soon as I enter, sitting on the beach of my organ. Going to her side I saw in her eyes that same blank stare that now frequented her countenance. Christine's eyes had been so alive with curiosity before and I caught myself gazing at them frequently throughout our music lessons. Now they appeared glassy and soulless. I displayed the packages in my arms._

_ "Christine I have brought you presents. Chocolates and delicate pastries, so that you have something enjoyable to eat.'"She regarded them without any emotion. "Of course I know these are but trifles to you , so I brought you something else." I added laying a tissue wrapped package in her lap. She opened it and reviewed the cover on the book._

_ "It's Tacticus. I bought it just for you Christine." I explained. "Do you like it?"_

_ "Yes…" she answered in a hallow tone._

_ I sighed and turned my back. I sat on the bench at her side, facing away. The other packages were gripped tightening in my arms. I wanted to squeeze hard and smash them. "Christine, are you happy here with me?"_

_ She was silent but finally answered. "I have no choice but to be. I can try to be happy or allow myself to be miserable."_

_ "What would make you happy?" I asked._

_ "To have everything be as it was. I want to see my friends again. To be in surroundings that are familiar to me."_

_ "I would much rather you stayed here. There are people up there who would hurt and abuse you. I know how cruel people can be." I knew more than what she told me. I could sense that the man she lived with made her uncomfortable and lusted after her. Why else would she willing stay so late at the opera to have lessons instead of returning home from a hard days work. "I only wanted to protect you…" I told her, placing my hand against the wood bench. "And how you must hate me for it."_

_ I was surprised to feel a graceful touch over my hand and the shape of Christine's fingers over mind._

_ "I do not hate you Erik." Her voice sounded very sincere. I pivoted and face her, the smallest hint of a smile on her face. I observed her hand on mine. Her fingers were so small they appeared child sized in comparison to mine. I turned my palm and cupped her fingers._

_ "May I?" I asked for I had promised not to touch her without her consent. She nodded and I brought her hand up to my lips. I brushed her skin against my mouth before pressing gently down for a brief moment. She had let me kiss her… _

_ "Then will you sing for me, Christine." I begged._

_ She turned to look at the organ. "What is Don Juan Triumphant?"_

_ I frowned at her question. For the past few months, my world had been consumed with nothing but Christine. I had watched her every movement from the cat walks and spent my days rehearsing music for our lessons until every note was memorized. I had felt real joy for the first time in my life at thEN. So I could not return to work on my opera. My angry passion that had been my inspiration had fled from me and I could not bring myself to write another note._

_ "It is my opera…" I said simply. "I have worked on it for years. Some time I compose for days on end, without food or sleep…"_

_ "It is not finished?" she stated._

_ "No and perhaps it never will be." I answered._

_ "Will you play some for me?"_

_ I cursed myself for not hiding my manuscript so Christine could not see it. I grabbed it off the organ and clutched it against my chest._

_ "No Christine. I cannot. I will play you anything you like, but not my Don Juan." I protested._

_ She looked at me disappointed. "But why not?"_

_ "It would cause you too much pain." I said._

_ She did not seemed satisfied by my explanation. She looked at mE thoughtfully then said "If you play your opera…I will sing it with you." _

_Seized by a rage within me, I threw the music out of my hands, watching the pages scatter over the floor. I leaped from the bench, her hand still in mine. Bringing my face close, I hissed at her. "Enough! You refuse your voice and I will refuse my music. This music is not for you! It represents everything unholy and is against everything that you stand for Christine. I will not play for you!"_

_Her blank look was replaced by one of fright and I realized that I held her hand in a terrible grip. And I had promised I would not hurt her. I released her and moved away, now frighten at what I had done._

"_Please Christine, I would give you my life if you asked for it. But there are things I cannot and will not do for you." I pleaded. "You are a creature that needs to be surrounded by beauty…beautiful music. My Don Juan burns Christine, and yet he is not struck by the fires of heaven." I withdrew my gaze and starred at my feet and my fallen music. I expected her to flee from the room, repulsed by my temper and my cruel words._

_Yet she stayed. She even dropped to her knees and started to pick up the music. I let her for a moment before going to her side to stop her. When she looked at me, her eyes were full of tears. She timidly handed the paper to me, afraid of me._

_ A wail escaped my lips and I pressed my head to the floor in shame. My fingers dared to touch the hem of her dress._

_ "Christine…" I moaned. "Forgive me…Forgive your poor Erik…forgive me for being the monster that I am." This beautiful woman that I loved was still afraid of me. I had brought her here hoping she would grow to love me. If I had only known her feeling towards me before, I might have left her to the world above. Where she could be happy. Her tears had the power to undo me and I loathed myself for making her shed a single drop._

_ Her shaking hands touched my head and in a moment of fear, I brought my hands to my face, to keep my mask in place. But I did not look at her._

"_Erik…" she started her voice quivering like her unsteady hands. "Erik…I will sing for you. If it will make you happy." _

_ Ashamed of the state I was in, I hurried to my feet then lifted Christine up to stand. I reached up a hand to wipe away a tear that clung to her red cheek and she let me touch her without drawing back._

"_I do not deserve such kindness from you, Christine. You will sing again, but not now." My hand moved from her face to her hair, letting a few precious strands slip between my fingers. "I have upset you. Go and lie down for a while."_

_ She nodded at my instructions and walked away. I started to collect my music off the floor when her voice called to me._

"_Erik…"_

_ I turned my head to see her waiting, halfway up the stairs. Even with her tear stained face, she was a vision. All that was beautiful and good personified, and she tolerated me instead of turning me away._

_ "Will you play for me?" she asked._

_ Her hand was stretched outward, beckoning me to her. I reached for my violin that I had left in one of the chairs and swiftly went to her side like an eager child. We walked together but as she entered her room, I remained back._

"_No, you may come in." she said._

"_I dare not." I whispered._

_"Then how will you music send me to sleep?" she asked. I could tell by the change in her voice that my music excited her. Even as she had walked around my home in her dismal state, the mention of music changed her attitude. For this I was glad. Glad that despite what I had done, I had not destroyed her love of music._

_ She sank onto the bed, wrapping her arms around a pillow. _

_ I had wanted a wife. I had wanted Christine to love, her body and her soul. I did not just want a shell of her, a distance being who starred at my with blank eyes. I wanted her angel's voice to fill my ears, not to have her repeat hallow notes at my request. I wanted Christine. I wanted all of her._

_ Restraining myself as I starred at her, I kept my distance between her and the bed, tuning the strings. "Any requests?"_

_ She murmured into the pillow, her eyes half shut "Beethoven.."_

_ I smiled "As you wish."_

_ I wasn't even through with the first movement of the piece before I noticed Christine had drifted off to sleep. With light steps, I moved closer to the bed still playing and still watching._

_Her face was framed in pillows and bed linens of snow white, making the dark features of her face stand out. Her tears had gone and the red sticky cheeks were now a lovely shade of peach. Her lips without the aid of any cosmetics were a shade of deep rose and I watched them move ever so slightly with each breath. My song came to an end as I drew the bow out, extending the last notes. _

_ My fingers longed to leave the strings and weave themselves through her golden hair. Inwardly I told myself this was madness. But now that I had been given permission to enter my lady's sanctuary , I could not leave._

_ And so the monster played while the angel slept._

* * *

><p>I ran into another dark wall. One of the endless numbers that passed before me. Some I walked right through as if I were a ghost, others pounded into my flesh hard and painful. Yet I kept running.<p>

The shade came closer to me. I felt my feet move at an inhuman pace and yet the shade was always right behind me. I could not tell where I was. It was not the opera or any part I had seen. Perhaps it was the cellars. The forbid passages that awaited me beyond the locked doors of Erik's house.

Desperate for help I cried out, but no words came. I was mute and I ran. Another wall appeared out of nowhere and I fell against it hard. My bones broke in my arms and my whole side went numb as I crumbled onto the floor. Now my voice returned and I let out a wail of pain.

The shade was standing over me. I waited for his attack but instead he knelt down and stared at me, breathing hard. Beneath his hood I could not see his eyes. As he moved closer, I reached my hand into the hood and found my fingers around a hard cold object. I withdrew Erik's mask and stared at it in my hand.

Then my ears were filled with laughter. Horrible laughter. I pressed my hands against my head to block out the sound. The shade removed his hood and I looked at him face to face.

Frederich's eyes starred back at me, his face contorted with his vicious laughter.

I screamed.

I bolted upright in my bed. My face was covered in sweat yet I felt chilled to my core, and I was still screaming. My fingers touched the sheets wrapped around me and I finally woke. My eyes darted, trying to find were he went, but they found Erik instead. He stood right beside my bed, the eyes under the mask wide with shock as he looked at me.

"Erik…" I gasped. I raise myself to my knees so I could reach his face. My hands placed themselves on the side of his face and he in turn rested his hands over mine. "Erik, Erik it is you?"

"Christine."

Then I lost myself, and my body leaned forward into his. Sobs racked my throat and the cloth of his shirt became wet with my tears. I clutched at his arm and chest, but he did not return my embrace until I asked him.

"Please…hold me." I begged.

At that I was seized tight, almost to the point that my limbs felt pain in the places Erik gripped them. But I did not care. I felt so good. After a moment he positioned me in his arms, one wrapped around my shoulder and the other under my leg. He pulled himself into a sitting position on the bed and held me like a child. I cried until I was hoarse, too wrapped up in my fear of the dream to care about my embarrassing state. He did not protest and let me cry as long as I needed to. My breath came from me uneven and wild, but I could hear his breath close to me ear in a slow steady pace. My fear started to fade and my crying stopped.

Long fingers wrapped over the top of my head, hesitantly stroking my hair. "It was a dream? Wasn't it?" he asked,

"It was a nightmare." I replied. "This is a dream…"

"Are you so sure that you are still asleep?" I could now hear his heartbeat as my other ear pressed against his rib cage. I nodded. I sat in his arms and even through my fear and anxiety, I felt happier than I had been in years. Staying with Erik would mean surrendering my freedom in return for my safety. Even though Erik's behavior sometime frightened me, I knew in my heart that he would never to things to hurt me. Not in the way Frederich had. He respected me, even though we both knew he had the strength to over power me if he choose.

I knew not if I rested in the arms of an angel or a madman, and I did not care.

He sighed and the warmth of his breath grazed my ear.

"Then if this is a dream,Christine, I wish never to wake up."


	13. Act Two: Chapter Three

I awoke the next morning and expected to still feel Erik's arms around me. To feel the steady pace of his breath against my ear and listen to the sound of his heart echoing in his chest. But to my surprise he was not there and I found myself alone in my bed.

I stared up at the dark ceiling above me, pondering. My reasons and emotions that had not bothered me much before were now plaguing my every waking thought. I had no time to think on them before, when my body was constantly working, constantly worrying about others and not myself. Now shut up in this place, nothing could distract me enough to keep these lingering thoughts out of my head.

My reason wanted to end it all. To go back to the way things were before when we were simply teacher and student. If we had continued on in that manner, perhaps our feeling for each other would have gone away. I blamed myself for opening up to him and sharing my secrets and fears. I had Genny to talk to, but I had said nothing to her. I trusted a stranger over my best friend.

I could not claim to know Erik's mind no more than my own. Would he have stayed distance or would his obsession with me only grow until he spirited me away? Once I realized he was indeed the Opera Ghost, my mind conjured fantastical events. Had he been watching me before we began are lessons. Was I always in his sight, even if I was not aware of it? If we had confessed our feelings before, would we still be here?

Both of our foolish actions had led us to this state. A prison of the mind. Trapped together and still afraid to confess our love. And through it all, my reason called for me to run. To try and escape at any cost, but it did not think of where I would run to. Would returning home be any worst than staying here? Frederich's face from the dream flashed through my memory and I shuddered. I had my answer.

I forced myself out of bed and dressed for the day. I was suddenly aware of the imperfections on my appearance and lathered my face with soap much longer than was necessary. I brushed my hair out again and again and I let it fall freely at my shoulders. I longed for a bath and was curious if I could even be provided with one in the cellars.

I left my room and found the same scene before me. Erik had already risen and played softly on the organ. I noticed at the bottom of the stairs he had left me a plate of fruit and a pot of tea. I fixed myself a drink before walking towards him. Halfway through my paces, he heard me and turned to face me.

The cup in my hands smashed onto the floor as I dropped it in shock. A strange face stared back at me. Erik did not have on his black mask, and the sudden absences of it frighten me. I didn't even bend over to start picking up the pieces of my shattered tea cup as I stared at the stranger across from me. For a brief moment, I doubted it even was Erik.

He came towards me as I got a better look. His nose was thin at the top with wide sculpted bottom. He had high cheekbones that had deep shadows beneath them. Yet his lips were pale with no color and there were no bags under his eyes or any other shades of imperfections. He was handsome. Almost too handsome, lacking all flaws.

Was I still dreaming?

"Christine…" he spoke and I tired to stop my gawking. I placed my hand on his face, trying to assure myself that Erik's voice had indeed come from the person standing before.

It wasn't warm like my skin, nor was it cold. It was dotted with rough textures that I felt under my fingertips. Then I realized it was not skin at all.

"A mask…" I whispered.

He nodded, removing my hand from it. "Yes, I have made a mask that makes me appear as anyone else." I only noticed the hint of shadows darting across the lower half of the mask as his real lips moved against the fake ones. "I have some adjustment to still make. However judging from your reaction, I think the illusion is quite effective." He pointed out, dropping to his knees to pick up the broken cup.

My stomach felt sick. "Erik…" I started. "I do not like…this mask…"

He stood, his yellow eyes staring back at me from under the mask, wide with surprise. "It is wrong that you would need to deceive me with another mask." I said. "I thought you had finally trusted me enough to see your face…" I placed my hand to my cheek. "But I was mistaken…"

I could have said more. My mind cried out to tell him that I felt betrayed. Betrayed that he had not told me the truth, when I had thought he was honest. Betrayed that he had kidnapped me and that now I was a prisoner in his house, and he still did not always reveal his true nature to me. Yet last night, as he held me, I was willing to forgive him for all these things. Not any longer.

"You promised to sing today." He informed me coldly, all joy and friendliness gone from his voice. I nodded, too angry and stunned to protest.

My lesson for today followed our usual pattern as before; warm ups and scales. I sang Cherbunio's lines and arias over and over for what seemed like hours. Every time I hit the right notes and made my cues, but I felt no joy in singing. The raw emotions I felt about both my physical and mental situations did not reflect themselves in my music. I felt no love or gaiety. Erik sensed this and continued to drill me, even though my technique was on target.

He stopped in the middle of a piece. Even though I could not see his lips through this mask, I could tell he was frowning. "It's obvious you've mastered this piece even if you have no love when you sing it. Perhaps I should give you something more challenging Christine." He seemed beyond annoyed. I had not sung for him in over a week and now I made only half an attempt at it. He had his outbursts before when I had challenged him, but now for the first time he was angry with me.

I guessed it was because of the mask. He had been so proud of it and I had been repulsed by it. I already had my suspicions on why he covered his face. Was his face so terrible that he felt the need to cover it up with an artificial handsome one? I found this fake face more disturbing.

Erik left me to dash across the room to his music library. He returned tossing a manuscript at my arms. "Here Christine, let us sing something else." He instructed as he called out a page number to me. I turned through the pages, the phrases and chords of Mozart's _Idomeno _passing before my eyes, until I found the correct passage. It was an aria of a princess, but not the gentle kind Ilia. Instead it was the tortured song of the vengeful Electra. I sighed.

"Mozart wrote some of the most beautiful music, yet it seems you have an attachment to these pieces." I noted, remembering the time he had me sing the Queen of the Night. I had been so proud of myself. Now as I reflected on the piece, it had been beautiful music but frightening emotions. "Have you always been so fascinated with these arias of revenge and murder?" I asked.

"Sometimes Christine, we need to view life at its ugliest to see and understand its loveliness." He was quick to respond and he took his seat at the organ bench. "Even the most grotesque of creatures can be beautiful underneath."

His unspoken message was not lost on me. He was speaking about himself, for he had often called himself monster and other vile names. I couldn't bring myself to hate him, not like I hated Frederich. Erik, despite his actions was a man full of sorrows.

The notes struck for the beginning of the aria, and I trudged through it. This piece was indeed a challenge for the majority of the notes were high in my range. It was the aria when the scorned Electra realizes she cannot have the man she loves and plunges into madness.

"_I feel the torments of Orestes and Ajax in my breasts_"

The lines repeated themselves with increased rapidity to dramatize the princess's descent into madness. I breathlessly managed to keep up with the pace.

"_The image of Alecto frightens me to death…._"

I stared at the false face that rested on Erik's. The craftsmanship was impressive, with each ridge and impression hand molded to resemble a man's face as much as possible. Had he thought he could make me love him more by creating this handsome façade?

"_Tear at my heart you horned serpents…_"

I had taken a leap of faith and trusted a man from the shadows. I had started to fall in love with him and I had never seen his face. If I had done these things already, wasn't it enough for him to not hide from me?  
>"<em>Tear at my heart….or I shall end my pain with a sword.<em>"

The music progressed into a wild accession of notes as Electra ended her song with insane laughter. My music fell from my hands, the sheets spilling like waves at my feet. My fingers flew to the hideously perfect face, curled under the mask and drew it away.

Like lighting, Erik's hands flew from the key board and swung back, striking my face. I fell backwards onto the floor, pain shooting through my shoulder on my impact. I lay as if paralyzed , clutching the mask and staring up at Erik.

And I screamed.

* * *

><p><em>Her screaming voice ripped through me. My angel who voice had serenaded me moments before now screamed at the sight of me. I could only stand there, my body filling with rage as I experience this familiar horror once again.<em>

_ I could have covered my face to save us both the grief it caused, but instead I shoved it forward in plain view. She had been so eager to see it, and now she was going to get a good look._

_ Tears had already formed in her eyes, tears of fright. Her whole body shook as she reached up her hand, offering back my empty handsome face. _

_ "I'm…I'm sorry..." she whispered._

_ I stepped towards her and smacked the mask away with one swift move. I followed the sound of it landing on the opposite end of the room, crumbled and broken.  
>"You're sorry?" I asked my voice raw and mocking. Dropping to my knees, I dug my hands into her backside and pulled her up to my face. She gasped in pain and terror as her eyes met mind. "You're only sorry that you saw!" I shouted. I felt her arms reach up and strike at my chest. I grabbed and held her wrists, pulling her closer. We were so close we would have been nose to nose. If not for the fact that I did not have a nose to speak of.<em>

_ "Get a good look Christine! You've been begging for so long to see my face. Here is you chance!" She shut her eyes as I forced her closer. "I thought you had sense girl! You pleaded with me and yet you had no sense to see what I was trying to tell you. My protests were to protect you from your curiosity, my dear. To spare you the horrors of what lay behind my mask!"_

_ My ears were full of her sobs. Her hands twisted in vain within my grip as she struggled to break free. "I didn't…know…I thought…"_

_ I cut her off. "Yes, I knew what you thought. Well I can assure you, Christine; this face you see is no accident. It was not as you assumed caused by any war!" I pressed her fingers to my face. Her eyes were close so I made her feel my face, her fingers tracing every horrid detail._

_ The tightly stretched skin along a face that was rough with scars from my mask. Where cheeks would have been, I was cursed with only bone, jutting out from the sides. A deep hole instead of a nose in the center and my deep sunken eyes in my skull. This was no face. This was a death's head._

_ "Let go of me!" she cried. "You're hurting me."_

_ Pulling her to her feet, I pushed her arms away, still holding onto them. Her feet were weak and she fell against my chest, a sensation I would have otherwise relished if I had not been filled with rage. I hissed in her ear._

_ "Oh mad Christine, mad girl who wanted to see my face. If you are in pain my love, it is brought on by your own doing." I marched her along across the room to a door I had not opened for her. It was directly below her room above the stairs. It was my living chamber. I paused before opening the door._

_ "Since you are so eager to know my secrets…I'll show you them. This is my room. Do you care to see it?" Her pretty little head shook back and forth in protest, but I lead her in. Keeping at least one of her hands in my grip I lit the candles in my chambers to let Christine get a better look._

_ She moaned in fright as she examined my room. It was directly below her bed chamber. Even in my own home, I positioned myself in hell, with my angel above me always. She moved over to the bed at the center of the room, and then step back as she saw what it truly was. I stopped her and pushed her forward._

_ "Found something of interest?" I cried. We both looked over the edge of the coffin that was my bed. I felt her limbs trembled beneath my grip as she gasped. "Yes this is where I sleep. It serves as a reminder of what awaits me in the next life. Cold, endless sleep."_

_Scooping her delicate frame into my arms, I expected her to scream but she was silent with fear. The only noises she made were the strained sobs jumping from her lips I dropped her into the coffin. She winced as she fell in and refused to look up at me._

_ "Know Christine…know that I am made of death. I tried to spare you, but at last you see that it is a corpse that loves you. A corpse who worships you and will never leave you."_

_ "Please…Erik…you're mad…" she stammered. I gazed down at her, this beautiful girl lying in this dark coffin. Her blond hair spilled over the dark lining. Her pale features contrasting in the dim light of my chamber. If she had been still, she would have looked dead. _

_ A dead wife._

_ The perfect bride for a creature such as me._

_ "Please, take me out of here. I want to leave this place…" she begged._

_ "No Christine." I backed away, now repulsed at what I had done. "As long as you thought me handsome, you would have stayed with me. Now that you have seen me, you are disgusted and you would stop at nothing to get away from me."_

_ She pushed herself up and stared at me. "No, I loved you before I knew your face!" she cried. "Before I even knew your name."_

_ I could not look at her any longer. Even with her eyes glowing with hate she was still a temptation to me. I was a fool to bring her here. "No, that's a lie. You don't…love me. You would say anything…anything to undo what you have done. It's too late." I reached the door. I had to get away from her. "You will never leave this place…ever!" I slammed the door behind me._

_ Seconds after my fingers twisted at the lock, I heard the sound of Christine's mad cries and her small fists beating at the door. My whole body was trembling, with rage and remorse. Had Christine destroyed our last chance of love by removing my mask…or had I?_

_ I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the door. My hands came to cover my hideous face and when I drew them back, I finally realized that they were wet…with my own tears._


	14. Act Two: Chapter Four

I don't recall what had happened. I found myself being awaken from a deep feverish sleep but the touch of cool water across my forehead. With my eyes still closed, I reached up my hand to my forehead to touch a wet cloth lying over it. Yet I still felt water fall unsteadily over my face. I opened my eyes.

Erik's black mask stared back at me. His eyes were shut and above my head was his hand, dripping water from his fingertips onto my face. His hand shook as if he were freezing. His breath was no more than labored gasps.

"Erik…" I called.

His yellow eyes opened.

"Erik you are trembling…"

He pulled his hand away and brought it under my head. I then realized his other hand had been there as well and they both quivered underneath me. I looked into his mask and tried with all my might, not to think of that mad look in his eyes and his face contorted with rage when I had unmasked it. Here he was crying over me and I could only conjure that mad horrible face.

I had to see it again. To know that like the man that owned it, that face was capable of other emotions. Slowly I reached my hands up to the touch the mask.

"No…Christine..." He murmured.

I managed to pull myself up. A quick glance around and I saw I was no longer locked in Erik's room. He had brought me out and we both lay on one of the chaises, my head in his lap. His mask was finally in my reach. His hands shot up to grip mine.

"Please…" he begged.

"No, Erik I must." I reasoned. "Or I will be forever haunted that the face behind you mask is one full of hate for me."

"Christine…I could never hate you." My fingers managed to stretch enough from his grip to reach the edges of his mask.

"Then let me do this." I pleaded.

His eyes closed in pain as he let his hands relax their grip. Gently my fingers reached around his head, lost in a tangle of coal black hair. The straps fell away and pulled back the mask. His eyes were still shut as I set it aside. I saw that he had indeed been crying and I reached up to touch him.

Except his chin and lips, there was no trace of fat underneath his flesh. Each outline of his taught skin was accented by the bones of his face, protruding out. I felt them. If he had the face of normal man with these elegant cheek bones, he would have been exceptionally handsome. Instead these features made him appear more misshapen. I touched the patches of flesh that had been rubbed raw by the tightness of his mask.

"Oh Erik…" I moaned. I could not help it. My heart was full of sorrow. For all his deception and wicked acts, I still felt sorrow for him. This man, this musical genius was forced to cover his face. But something else must have happened to him in his life, to cause him to hide himself from the world. Something terrible had happened to him to drive him to hide in the shadows and live underground. To drive him…into madness. The cloth on my forehead had started to slip away. I caught it then used it to press against his sores. Some were so bad that they were bleeding. Erik must have hated the sight of his face so much that he did not bother to tend to the injuries his mask caused him.

"Erik, do you always wear your mask?" I asked.

He sighed, a low painful expression. "It's the face of a monster. Even though it has been mine since birth, I am ashamed to look at it. One look is enough." His gaze met mine. "Tell me Christine, what you think of me now? Now that you have seen me"

I examined the rest of his face. His captivating eyes were set deep in the sockets, surrounded by shadows. When they were closed they looked like the eyes of a skull. This effect was enhanced by that fact that where his nose should have been, there was a scared black hole with only the smallest hint of skin.

"I had to look again." I started. "And now I see the face of any other man who has been hurt. A sad face…"

He pressed a hand over mine, holding it against his cheek. "Oh Christine…but when you look at me, I see your eyes are full of pity…not love. And because of that, you will want to leave me."

I sighed and returned his mask. I wanted to tell him that he could leave it off, if he wanted. But his quickly retrieval of it from hands was enough of a hint that he wished to remain masked.

"Is it so wrong of me to pity for you? Doesn't it show that I care?" I pleaded with him. His eyes remained shut so I turned away. "Erik what am I to you?" I asked uncertain if I really wanted to know the answer. "How can I expect to sort out my own feelings about you if….you keep me in the dark about yours?"

Erik had told me he loved me. He waited at my side and groveled at my feet like a dog and he did all these things in the name of his love. One moment he would be astoundingly tender and gentle with me. Then his temper would flare and he would say cruel things to terrify me. That kind of love frightened me. Surely he did not think I could return it, not after what had happened between us. Not after what he had done to me.

He adjusted his mask, and brushed a few stray locks of black hair away from his face. "I saw you when you first came to the opera, for not much escapes my notice around here. I saw you going about your duties and I found myself more than often coming up from my home to watch you from the shadows. I watched you and I saw this beautiful, kind…innocent young woman…and I thought 'What a shame that such kindness is wasted on such vanity'."

He leaned back against the couch as he spoke. His tone was capricious as he recalled these events, but his eyes did not focus on me. "I started to wonder how sweet it would be to pass an hour in your company. If you were so kind to others, perhaps you would not be…repulsed by me. Then one night, I heard the most un-earthly voice ring out over the auditorium. It was a clear as a fine tuned bell and most beautiful. It was indeed the voice of an angel. So imagine my surprise when I saw that it belonged to you. I was struck dumb and I knew in that instant you were destined for more Christine. That you would waste away scrubbing costume and dressing foolish actors. I knew in that moment that I didn't want to hear any other voice for as long as I lived. I knew that you deserved to be on that stage. But you seemed so shy and I thought…if I could only help this girl."

His hands sat in his lap and he rubbed his long fingers together nervously. "I knew in that moment that I loved you. Something had drawn me to you before and when I heard you sing I knew I had to help you. I almost died when you agreed to sing for me and I kept my excitement restrained during our lessons. I was so frighten to tell you, afraid I would hurt you and also…that you would refuse me." He stood up and started to pace in front of me, planning out what he would say next.

"Forgive me, but I became obsessed." He confessed. "Those hours we passed together were the happiest ones… I have ever known. I didn't want them to end. I wanted you for my own and I hoped that you would let me know how wonderful it would be to be blessed by your kindness. So I brought you here with me." He brought his hands together in a pleading gesture. "You asked if it was wrong of you to pity me. Now I'm asking is it so wrong of me to love you?"

"No. No one can make the decision of when they will fall in love, so I do not condemn you for it." I admitted. "But it was wrong of you to take me away…and you can't keep me here…forever." I recalled his chilling words as he dropped me into the coffin that served as his bed.  
>Another one of his mournful sighs sounded around us. "I was afraid you would say that."<p>

"When is my audition?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Again, the expressionless black face stared back at me, but his eyes moved about in thoughtfulness. "In two days…"

"What will you do with me then?"

"I will escort you up to the opera at the right moment. You will sing and then we will both return home to celebrate your triumph." His voice was now the steady calculated tone I had become familiar with.

"Home? You mean here?" I asked

"You seemed repulsed at the idea, my love?" The cynical unfeeling tone had returned to his voice.

I shook my head, fearing that he had returned to that mad state of his mind. "You know I must leave you at that time. You must let me go." I reasoned.

He turned away from me. "Are you so anxious to leave me?" he asked bitterly.

"I have to leave. I have friends and people who care about me. Don't you think they have been concerned as to where I am?" I explained. "I can't simply walk onto the stage and expect everyone to welcome me back..."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I have arranged for everything, Christine." I could imagine. If Erik had the power as the Opera Ghost he was rumored to have, I was sure that any role he had in mind for me was already secured. Whether I audition for it or not.

"But you didn't plan for this? I have to explain to Genevieve where I have been, and my guardian." My thoughts suddenly turned to Madame. "My guardian has been kind to me, and she is a very old woman." I explained. "She has probably been very worried by me. It's not that I want to leave, but I must. I need to see her."

He stood up and went to his piano, trying to distract me. "But what of the man?"

My face grew red hot. I thought for a brief moment that he had seen Raoul with me and he knew about us. About that innocent kiss. "Who?"

"The one who took your necklace." he growled. I let out a deep breath. He wasn't talking about Raoul. Then I realized that he was speaking about Frederich, and that if I returned home, I would once again be at his mercy.

"Please Erik!" I cried. I went to his side. I did not want to beg him.

He paused and gazed at me intently. "I will think about it."

"Please don't try to deter me. Will you let me go, to visit my guardian?"

"Christine, I am only concerned for your safety. Is staying with me such a terrible option?"

"No, you are twisting my words. I'm more concerned for Madame more than anything else." I protested.

He did not answer right away. I collapsed back into the cushion of the chaise. I looked around the room. Erik had captivated my attention that I did not notice the state of disarray in the sitting room. The floor was covered with sheets of music. The end tables had been turned over and the delicate objects they once displayed on top were reduce to broken bits. I realized I was seeing the evidence of Erik's extreme temper. He had been driven to such rage at what I had done. There was no doubt in my mind that his anger would only intensify if I left him. But I had to try.

"Erik, I will tell no one of where I have been. I swear." I offered. "I will continue to be your devoted pupil if you wish to still be my teacher. But you must let me go. At least to see my friends. To let them know I'm well." I threw out my last attempt. "It would kill me to have them not know what has happened to me."

Erik put his elbows on the top of the piano and slowly leaned forward on them. He was in his shirtsleeves. For so long I had only seen him in his long black coat, so that sometimes his body faded into the dark shadows that were his familiar surroundings. Now I could see clearly how incredibly long his arms and limbs were.

"Christine, will you make me a promise?" he asked.

I paused, unsure of what he would ask. "Yes." I answered tentatively

"I feel with confidence that you would not tell anyone about me. I trust you not to run away, because you have not made an attempt to do so as of yet. Please visit your family and your friends, and get your affairs in order." He stated. "But you must promise me this one thing."

My heart was pounding at the thought. "Yes, anything…"

He turned and stared at me. His voice was no longer light or mocking. It had deepened in tone. "If you feel for a moment that you are unsafe. If anyone tries to hurt you, promise that you will call on me…That you will return to me for help."

I had expected a more trying demand. I thought I would only have a few days before Erik might realize his mistake and bring me back to live with him. But he had set no deadline or made any threats.

"I can only protect you within the walls of the opera house. Outside my world, you can only rely on yourself." He continued. "You are a brave girl, Christine, but there is only so much you can do alone."

He did not need to make any threats. I knew his unspoken apprehensions. Here he had made a world, safe from the jeers and taunts of human kind.

A place where a man like him could live alone and in safety.

To him, his home was not a prison. It was a sanctuary.

* * *

><p>My two weeks were over. I awoke the morning of my audition shaking from nerves. I lied to Erik saying I was only anxious about singing, but we both knew the real truth. I was concerned on what I would say and how I would explain my disappearance. I was only a dresser, not of great importance in the hierarchy of the opera company, but my absence was bounded to be noticed.<p>

Erik did not offer me any advice on this matter. His only concern was my audition. He had drilled me on my music and vocal technique with a relentless pace. He had managed to secure a new outfit for me, made up of a fashionable blouse and skirt. This was only after I had pointed out that some one was bound to recognize that my dresses had once been former costumes.

I finally saw the world of the cellars behind the closed doors. His house looked out upon a small lake. At my surprise, he explained to me the mechanics of the lake and how when the opera was built over the water system, it made more sense to leave the lake in place and build around it. He rowed us to the other shore in a small boat. Looking at his home from the outside, I couldn't distinguish it from the walls surrounding the cavern. It was that well hidden.

He led me through endless passages and stairs, climbing upward. I didn't even think of trying to keep track of every turn we made. I saw that there was no reason for Erik to keep the path to his home hidden from me. It was too secreted for me to find if I tried. We finally came to the door that led from the hall with our music room to the backstage. I stood on the landing, peering over the fly and rails to see the company rehearsing. The stage seem packed with the entire company, with one end taken up by the ballet girls leaping about; to the chorus shoved off in a corner focusing on M. Gabriel.

Erik's hands rested on my shoulders. "I must go." He whispered.

"Wait, where do I go now?" I asked.

Erik's lips curled into a thin grin, his gaze shifted to the side. "I told you Christine, I have everything planned."

As soon as he spoke, I heard the voice of M. Gabriel call out to the company. "Ladies, we will be having open auditions for any chorus members who wishes to try for the role of Cherbunio."

I looked at him surprised, but I shouldn't have been.

"Go on Christine. You are ready."

"Will you be watching?" I asked unsure.

"I will always be watching." he replied. I turned to go but he stopped me, grabbing my hand and pressing a kiss upon it. "Remember your promise."

"Yes, Erik." I walked out of the shadows and through the wings. Those who passed me by seemed to pay no attention. I took a deep breath and stepped from the shadows onto the stage.

I had taken no more than two steps before I heard my name screamed.

"Christine!"

All eyes turned to look at Genny, who stood staring at me with her mouth a gape. Then they turned to me and I heard gasps and whispers.

"Christine, oh God." Genny threw her arms around my waist. "I thought you were dead!" She cried and pressed her face down into my shoulder. Behind us I could hear whispers and could feel the stares directed at me.

Genny backed away, holding my hands in her face, like a frighten mother who's lost child has just been returned. "What happened?" she asked.

"I managed to get away. Who ever was chasing us stopped when we split up. But I got lost in the opera house, and by the time I made my way out, I was so exhausted that I collapsed in the street." My made up story seemed almost as fantastically as what had really happened. "A family found me and put me up in a hospital for a week until I got my strength back."

"I was so frightened for you. Christine, do you have any idea who that was?" she asked.

"No. Do you?"

Genny shook her head. "May have well been the devil or the Opera Ghost." She admitted with a shudder. "I just pray that I never see him again." She looked at me sternly. "Why did you not tell me you were all right? Why did you wait so long to come back?"

I didn't have a good answer for that. "I'm surprised I'm allowed to be here in the first place. Madame Valerius was most insistent that I quit my job after she heard what happened."

"Christine, I told the managers what happened that night. Everyone here thought you were dead or worst. You should have sent word!" her lips formed a pout. "You are no longer staying here alone late at night. Promise me that Christine." She chided me.

I almost smiled. "I promise."

"Ladies…" Gabriel had come from behind Genny and looked over. "While I am surprised and grateful to see Mlle. Daae has return to us unharmed, I am on a tight schedule here. Would you mind having your reunion elsewhere?" he asked annoyed.

"No." I said firmly. "I came here with another purpose. I want to audition." I told him.

That drew more surprised exclamations from the small audience gathered around us. Gabriel's serious face broke into an expression of complete befuddlement.

"But you're not even in the chorus!" he exclaimed.

Genny rushed to my defense. "Oh please Monsieur Gabriel, let Christine sing for you. She has the most beautiful voice."

He shook his head. "But it's highly irregular."

Genny stood with her arms cross, glaring daggers at the chorus master with the attitude of a true diva. "Please let her sing as a favor to me. I would hate to have to tell my brother that you refused me that." She said coolly.

Gabriel's mouth hung open speechless. I put a hand on Genny's arm. "No. I want to do this myself." I told her and then turned my attention to Gabriel. "Please, I would very much appreciate the chance to sing for you. Even if it might convince you that I could have a spot in the chorus. But if you feel I'm not ready after hearing me, then I'll return to my old job and not waste anymore of your time."

He seemed surprised that I had such courage to address him in such a manner, but he relented. "Very well mademoiselle, but please let the other ladies who _are already in_ the chorus audition first." He said bluntly. "You are excused for now, Mlle. De Chagny. You are singing the role of Susanna any way."

Genny smiled and titled her head. "Oh no, I'll say here for the time being. I don't want to miss this." She took a seat out in the stall among the other members of the company. To my discomfort I noticed many of them had followed Genny in mingling around after my shocking entrance, intrigued at the notion of a costume girl auditioning for a leading role.

Five ladies were ahead of me, each one sparing a nasty glance in my direction. The same aria was repeated over and over before it was finally my turn. M. Gabriel leaned against one of the columns in the stage, a look of disdain written over his face. I searched among the faces in the stalls.

"You're next Mlle. Daae." Gabriel informed me. I took a step out towards center stage. I did not see my maestro any where. I even glanced up to the box I had seen him hiding in at our first meeting, but he was not there.

"Christine?" a voice called to me.

I turned to my left and saw Camille there. She looked at me concerned.

"The music? Don't you want it?" She asked, holding out a folio in her hands.

I sighed. "No thank you, Camille."

Her smile warmed me. "Good luck." she whispered.

The conductor looked at me earnestly and started the opening bars. Suddenly there was the slam of a door and at the back of the auditorium; Carlotta waltzed in with the managers in tow. I felt like my knees would buckle and I fall down right then and there. They continued their chattering, oblivious to what was happening on stage. The conductor simply shrugged, waved his hands to stop the violins and stared the piece over again.

I began trying hard to keep my voice steady among the thousand unseen distractions in my head.

"I can't give you a good explanation for the new and confusing sensation…."

I tried to remember everything Erik had told me over the past few weeks, but the piece moved so fast there was no time to think if I had reach the right pitch on each quarter note.

"Makes me tremble with pleasure and pain…makes me tremble with pleasure and pain…" My eyes darted around the auditorium, looking at the blank faces that stared back at me, not seeing the one I wanted to see the most.

Erik, where are you?

"I am spell bound and rapt with attention. I weave romances and daydreams together." I recalled our music lesson before I had unmasked him. I had agreed to sing for him. Even though I had been filled with emotion, I did not express any of it in my singing. And now I found myself doing the same thing here. I was not giving myself to the music. I knew the notes by heart and their patterns by memory. But no one would be impressed by a girl singing this music in such a mechanical fashion.

"Filled with longing…filled with longing I cannot explain."

I closed my eyes, recalling the emotions Cherbunio would have. A young lover singing about someone he cannot have. Envious of his dear friends who spends their time in the company of his love, while he watches from the shadows.

"Love, that word that sets me hoping and fearing. Love, that word I'm always hearing .Love, ah love how can I dissemble, those desires that I hardly dare name…"

I looked out briefly across the heads of the people seated in the stalls. In my mind I conjured an image of Erik standing at the back, watching me. Every detail was clear in my mind's eyes. The silhouette of his jacket against his tall thin frame. His graceful long fingers moving to the tempo of the music as I sang and his amber eyes filled with pride.

It is enough that you sing for me…always and only for me

Pride swelled in me as I reached the final phrase.

"And even if none be near me, I talk of love alone, talk of it alone."

I remembered the sweet sensation of Erik's hand as he steadied my breathing on my stomach. I let the memory fill me as I let the last note soar from my throat. As soon as it ended, I looked up towards the empty box

A shadow stood there; just barely noticeable from the curtain he stood behind. But I could make out his trademark features in the black outline I now saw. I could not see his eyes but I knew he was looking at me.

Then I heard applause.

My eyes still fixated on Erik, I saw that he was making no movement with his hands, which brought my gaze away to follow the direction of the sound. It seemed everyone was staring at me…and clapping! The violinists in the pit tapped their bows against their stands to show appreciation. The smile on Genny's face was from ear to ear. Even the managers and Carlotta had moved from their originally positions and were now right in front of the pit, watching intently.

Confused and overwhelmed, I made a quick curtsy to the conductor and then did the same to M. Gabriel. "Thank you, monsieur." I said. Again the chorus master was speechless.

I turned to leave, still hearing the clapping all around me. Behind me, I saw a multitude of chorus members, ballerinas, and even stagehands who had gathered. Some of them had delighted looks on their faces other looked stunned. But they all put their hands together as I passed. My ears were filled with the whispers of my name.

"Christine…Christine…Christine…."

Not surprisingly a blush filled my face and I tried to exit without making more of a scene. Someone tapped my on the shoulder. I turned and saw the well worn face of Madame LeRoy.

My joy abandoned me in the face of my employer. I did not even think of how I would explain my lengthy absences from work. She looked upset as our eyes locked.

"Madame…" I started. "I am so sorry that I didn't come back…to work… and now that I was trying to audition…." I stumbled over my words. "Please…I really did enjoy my work and if you would have me, I would like to have my old job back if…"

She pressed a finger to her lips as a motion for me to be silent. And then I saw that what I had interpreted as disappointment in her eyes, were actually tears instead. She reached out and embraced me. It felt strange this action from such a reserved woman.

She sighed. "Christine, Mademoiselle De Chagny told me what happened. I wasn't angry. I was worried. We all were…"

"Thank you for your concern, Madame." I replied sincerely "But my job…"

She shook her head and smiled. "No Christine, I think the next time I see you in my department, I'll be taking measurements for your costume."


	15. Act Two: Chapter Five

I stepped out onto the familiar streets of Paris for the first time in two weeks. It was lightly sprinkling outside, but I didn't care. It felt so invigorating to breathe the fresh air and see the sky. A twisted ceiling had only been my only sky to look at.

I quickly made my way home. I was too nervous after my audition to seek out Erik again or to even inquire if my bold move had been a triumph or a failure. I didn't doubt for one second that M. Gabriel would be very reluctant to let me into the chorus, no matter how well I sang. And I was so excited to be outside of Erik's house and free to come and go as I pleased.

I expected to find Madame in her usual place in the sitting room, a fire roaring on this cold November evening. When I entered the house I called out softy to Madame, for I did not want to make my presence known to _everyone that might be_ in the house. No one was in the sitting room or any of the other rooms of the lower level.

I called for Michelle and when no answer came I went directly to the kitchen. It was a mess, with filthy pans lying on the counters and a mass of empty cups and glasses. It would have been her baking day today, but there was no sign of any cooking.

My room remained the same, and with no sign of anyone at home. I returned to the sitting room to start a fire. There was no coffee or tea in the larder. So with my cup empty, I returned to the sitting room and placed a wrapper over my legs. I fell asleep for a moment, only to be awaken by the cold.

I saw the fire had gone out and I felt the chill in the air. I should have been disappointed that I had begged to return to my home only to not have any one to greet me. I sighed and went to my room. I looked myself over in the mirror; for once admiring the fine clothes I had been given. I retrieved a jacket from my wardrobe.

Looking around my room, I compared it to the one Erik had prepared for me. The closets full of clothes and drawers of accessories that I had first looked at with disdain. I compared my two rooms and realized both of them; despite their different surroundings, they were both prisons. Erik had designed a beautiful room with all the trimming to keep me satisfied, but it was no more than a gilded cage to keep me locked away from the outside. Here in my cramped room, I had designed my own prison cell; to keep the outside away.

I had to admit, despite all reason I longed for my beautiful prison cell more than this room. I knelt next to my bed and reached underneath to touch my father's violin. I was relived to see it was still there. After my necklace had been stolen, I lived with the fear that Frederich would have found the violin and sold it as well

A sense of dread filled me suddenly. Why wasn't there anyone home?

"Ah…Christine. It's so good to see you again." Frederich's voice echoed behind me. My whole body froze at the sound.

"And from this angle…" he added in a husky whisper. I would have blushed if I had not been filled with terror at the moment. I knew that Frederich despite his bold attempts so far, wouldn't dare come up to my room when I was alone. Not unless he was sure that he wouldn't be caught.

I stood up quickly. "Where is Madame?" I asked

He frowned. "Is that anyway to greet me after you have been away for so long?"

"Please, Frederich I want to know were your aunt is. I came back to see her!"

His frame almost filled the door way. His arms were crossed in front of him, making him an intimidating obstacle. "Of course you did. I knew that you ran away from me Christine, but in doing so you broke my poor aunt's heart." He answered in a mocking tone.

"What's happened to her? Where is she?" My hands hung in tight fists at my side. My whole body was tense with anger and fear.

"Not here." He replied his eyes still locked on me. "Poor girl took down with the chill or pneumonia… I can't remember all the detail. Nasty stuff. So I being the devoted nephew took her to the hospital for her to recover."

My heart sank. "She is sick?"

He grinned. "Dreadfully so." He informed me with a laugh. He stepped over the threshold into my room. Because of its small size we were now only a few feet apart form each other. He still blocked the door and even moving at my quickest pace, I wouldn't be able to get past.

"Tell me, where have you run off to?" I tried to side step him, but he anticipated my move and matched it. "To be with…a lover?"

I didn't answer, but looked at him shocked. I tried again to move, this time backwards, but he shot out a hand and caught my wrist.

"Ah you silence speaks louder than your words." He twisted my wrist to let me know his intent. " Who is he?" he asked.

"Let…me go." I pleaded, wishing for all the world to be away from this place. I would have traded an eternity in the cellars of the opera if only to avoid this cruel moment.

His hands moved so fast that I did not even realized what was happening until I felt the hard smack across my cheek. It was enough to knock me off balance, but Frederich caught me in his arms before I reached the floor. One hand grabbed at my blouse and with hard angry yanks, broken the buttons exposing my flesh underneath.

I fought back, pushing against his chest with my hands. He only laughed at my efforts. "Christine, how dare you have a lover, when we both know you belong to me!" He exclaimed. At this I took his ears in my hands and turned my fingers into the soft flesh behind them, tearing at the skin with my nails. He shouted in pain, and then grimaced at me. I received another slap across my face. This one was hard enough to knock me over. I feel backwards on the bed, my hand pressed to the side of my face now stinging with pain.

Frederich turned my over so that my stomach fell flat against the bed.

"No…"I cried. "Stop it please!"

He chuckled an awful sinister sound. "Please? You said please? Don't make me laugh Christine." His body was now pressed on top of mine. He had pushed me so that my knees sagged to the floor and my backside hung over the edge of the bed. His mouth closed over my ear, licking and biting it. I moaned.

"Scream all you want Christine. No one will hear you." He told me, before moving his mouth from my ear and down my neck sucking at my flesh. "In fact, I'll enjoy it more if I make you scream." With each horrible kiss, I cried another tear.

"Erik…" I whispered in vain.

Frederich's teeth dug into my back and I gave a wail of pain. His mouth returned to my ear, hissing angry words into them. "Ah so your lover has a name, does he? Well we will see how much your Erik loves you after he sees what I've done to you!" he shouted.

His hands roughly lifted my skirts over me. My body was went red with shame and then I remembered something. I stretched my left arm out as far as it would go, reaching my fingers over the side of the mattress and then under it. Frederich's hand pin my other arm back at my side, but did not noticed. He leaned over me again, this time I could feel his solid member pressing hard against my thigh. I felt sick inside.

The fingers of my left hand finally reach their target. I had prayed it would never have to come to this. That I would have the strength and the means to finally be free of Frederich before he ever had a chance to do something like this to me. I had locked my room, placed a bookcase in front of my door and even after all that, I had hidden a knife between my mattress.

Just in case.

I gripped the blade in my fingers. I waited until I felt my other arm free of Frederich's grip. I heard the sound of his fingers unfastening his belt and then I took in a deep breath, preparing myself.

He observed my still form. "Ah now that's better." He murmured. He moved quicker than I thought he would. In seconds, I could feel him trying to penetrate me. I panicked. I swung around, the knife twist upright in the air. I prayed it would hit something.

His arm was in its path and it sliced across his flesh as I brought it around. He jerked back and cried out more in shock than in pain. I jumped to my feet, but found that my legs were shaking so fiercely that they barely supported me. Yet I gathered my strength and charged at him. Even in his state of dishevelment, he reflexes were lighting quick. He blocked me, thrusting his forearms upward to smash against my raised hands. I dropped the knife and felt it fall. A sharp pain cut through me and my legs finally gave away beneath me. I crumpled to the floor.

Frederich gave a yell of fury. He bent to gather his pants and pull them up. I noticed the knife had fallen only a few feet away. He was again distracted. All reason abandoned me. I thought for a brief moment about the consequences of my actions, and then there was no time for thought.

Lunging across the floor, I grabbed the knife again. Without hesitation I plunged it into Frederich's calf. He yelled even louder, cursing me at the top of his lunges. I left the knife still imbedded in his leg as I stood. One hard kick to his still exposed groin finally knocked him to the floor. I ran out of my room and I did not look back.

Out of the house I had called home I ran blindly through the streets. The light rain from that afternoon was now a down pour. My tears only added themselves to the rain as my feet carried me back to the only place I knew was safe.

I found myself at the artist's entrance of the opera. I made my way inside, knowing that I could not risk bringing unwanted attention to myself. As silently as possible I made my way down into the lower levels beneath the stage. I searched in the darkness for any door or passage that seemed familiar, but my fear only drove me into further confusion.

I spotted a door that I recognized and sighed with joy on finding it unlocked. I was on tenterhooks hoping one of these door would open and somehow magically show my the way back to the house on the lake.

It was only rows of empty costumes that greeted me. I realized the door was one I had opened many times before as part of taking costumes down to the many storage areas. My sorrow and helplessness welled within me and I let out a sob as I collapsed onto the floor.

"Erik…" His name escaped my lips involuntary. But it was useless calling for him here, just as useless as when I called for him in my bedroom. I finally got a good look at myself. When I dropped the knife, it had slid past my skin. I was in such pain over being violated that I had not realized that it had cut me. A long gash was on my right arm and similar wounds over my collar and breast. Thankfully the cut was not deep, but the blood had spilled over my blouse. The button were long gone. I was shocked to see that I had ran all this way with my shirt still ripped open, exposing my bare chest and corset. Sobs of grief and shame escaped my lips and I tried to pull my blouse close to cover me. My whole body shook uncontrollably and I crawled over on the floor. I nestled my head between two large crinoline dresses, to cushion me as I leaned against them.

"Erik…where are you?" I buried my head in my knees and cried. I thought of poor Madame, sick in a hospital. She did not know what had happened to me. I didn't think for a moment that she could have been so sick. Had I known, I would have asked to see her sooner. Now it was too late. I could not return back to that house, knowing that Frederich lay in wait for me.

This was freedom for me. I was free to be hurt, free to be abused and taken advantage of. I was weak, so I came crawling back to a place that I felt safe. I called for my jailer and captor to save me from all the freedoms the world had to offer a weak girl like me.

"Christine…."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shadow of someone entering the room. I prepared myself to be discovered and shamed. A hand reached out and touched my head. In horror I recalled the feel of Frederich's hands groping my body and I flinched. My head jerked up and I saw the familiar black mask and the haunting eyes beneath them meet my gaze.

"Christine?" he asked, shocked at my appearance.

I was lost. I fell into his arms, shaking and sobbing in turn. My clothes were still wet and stuck to my body like thin sheets of paper. My soiled garments and blood stained his waistcoat, but he did not mutter a word of complaint.

Without another word passing between us, he lifted me in his arms and took me once again into the underworld.

* * *

><p><em>With the speed of a devil, I carried Christine back into the cellars. She clung to my chest like a frighten child too exhausted from crying to speak. I had spent the day in a restless haze, wandering aimlessly about the opera. Her audition was a triumph and it was only a matter of time before the pieces of my plan for her finally came together. However, I was consumed with anxiety over letting her leave. I believed in my heart she would eventually come back. She had not tried to escape before. She had promised me.<em>

_When I heard my name echo down to the cellars below, I had the faintest hope that it was her. That she had returned. Unfortunately, when I came upon her in the storage rooms of the third cellar, my joy quickly transformed into rage. Without thinking or even asking her permission, I gathered her in my arms and returned home. She did not protest._

_We finally arrive and I placed Christine in one of the oversize arm chairs. My cloak rested over it, and I draped it over her tiny frame. She pulled it close to her in appreciation._

_"Christine…tell me what happened." I pleaded. She looked up at me, her sapphire eyes rimmed with red from crying. She extended her arms and I saw the fresh blood over one of her sleeves. There was so much blood._

_"My God…" I whispered examining her arm. I bent my body so that I was at her side, holding my fingers just below her extended arm. I saw then that parts of my white shirt were now stained red._

_"I…I went home. Madame…." She swallowed hard. "She wasn't there…she's sick. She's in the hospital." She bit her lip, trying not to break into tears. " She sick and she didn't know….I didn't know…"_

_My heart felt for her. "Christine, who did this to you?" I demanded._

_She shook her head, afraid to tell me. I nervously darted my eyes across her body. She was injured not only on her arm but on her chest as well. The red marks on her face were not caused simply from crying. She had been struck...assaulted. She needed her wounds cleaned, but she would need to remove her blouse. I knew asking her to do such a thing now would certainly upset her._

_"You were raped?" The word felt bitter in my throat, but I had to say it._

_"No…No…" she shook her head more rapidly. "He didn't…" She stopped mid sentence. Her eyes widen then narrowed before her cheeks puffed out. She buckled over, bringing a hand to her mouth. With one hand I steadied her at her waist, and brought the other to cover her mouth. She heaved and trembled, spilling warm spittle from her lips._

_My mind was filled with only one thought; murder. And if Christine had not been by my side right then, I would have acted on that impulse without a second thought._

_She slid off the chair and onto the floor. I caught her again in my arms, letting her tears fall wet upon my shoulders. I was such a creature that I had to beg permission to even touch her, and yet some other man had defiled her as if she were nothing more than a common whore. Despite my care to hold Christine as tenderly as possible, both my mind and my hands wanted to start tearing everything apart with the rage that built up inside me._

_"I want…" she started. Then she pushed away from me. I felt pained that she was now suddenly anxious to get free of me._

_"I'm disgusting…" she muttered to herself, then looked back at me "Look what I've done!" she exclaimed. "Look what has been done to me." She sobbed._

_"Come, let's get you a change of clothes…" I offered._

_"No, I'm not clean!" she protested. "I want to be cleaned." She pressed her hands over her face and wept. "I need to be clean…"_

_I let her cry for a few moments longer. I had been a fool to try and embrace her. I had taken her without her permission and held her close. All this after a man had assault her with his hands. No wonder she backed away from me. No wonder she was repulsed by my touch now. As if it had not been appalling enough before._

_"Erik…could I have a bath?" she asked. I was surprised by her blunt request. "Can I? Do you…have the means…please…?"_

_I stood up, taking the cloak that she had left on the chair and placing it once again over her shoulders. Her blouse had been ripped open and the top of her breasts lay exposed. Her skirts were soaked with rain water. She must have been freezing._

_"Yes. It will be a moment. Why don't you go to your room and change…" She nodded and leaped up before I could finish. She was eager to rid herself of her ruined clothes. I heard the door to her room shut behind me and I started to gather the things I need. I did keep a copper bathing vessel in my house. My lack of indoor plumbing made the luxury of a bath somewhat difficult to attain. The tub had been used as a prop in an opera that I managed to acquire and bring to my home. I then gathered buckets and fetched water from the lake._

_At first thought, one could see a lady objecting to bathing in water such as this, but the lake was connected to the rivers of Paris, not its sewers. Surely I would not live next to a sewer if I had my choice in the matter. Half of it I poured into the vessel, the other I placed in large pans over my small stove. In a few minutes it was boiling and I brought it to the tub to bring the water to a tolerably temperature._

_Christine emerged from her room. From my position on the floor below her, I watched her descend the steps from her door with a tentative pace. She had removed her clothes and was now dressed in a simple shift with a square cut bodice. Her hair was loose about her shoulders. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed the light illuminated the gown so that it revealed the curved silhouette of her body underneath. I turned and moved on of the screens that served to block the sitting room from the kitchen. I positioned it on one side of the tub._

_"I apologize for this arrangement." I addressed her without looking at her. "I'm afraid if I carried this upstairs, I wouldn't have the strength to drag it back down full of water."_

_"No this will do." She said her voice now calm. "Could you help me?"_

_I wasn't even sure of if I could touch her without loosing my control. I went to her side. Her arms were outstretched to me. She wanted me. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her over to the tub. Her skin was hot underneath her shift and even through my gloves, I could feel the warmth of her thigh against my palm. Slowly I placed her gently in the warm water, my own arms sinking in with her. The water spilled over her body, making the fabric of her shift transparent. Quickly I adverted my gaze._

_I moved behind the screen, hearing the sound of water splashing. I gave her privacy for many cold silent minutes. Noticing my now wet jacket, I pulled it off and rolled my soaked shirtsleeves up to my elbows. I also removed my gloves and stared at my hands. My male hands. I should have excused myself and left, but I couldn't pull myself away. Not now._

_"Christine….there is something I must ask you, even though this might be the most inappropriate time…" my voice started to break. "But I must ask."_

_"Yes." Christine consented._

_"If you stayed here with me, I would have never let anything like this happen to you. Please…please tell me that you don't intend on going back." I begged._

_The sound of the water was still. The whole cavernous room was engulfed in silence as I awaited her answer._

_"I made you a promise…" she started. "You gave me my freedom after I had hurt you so much." My dear Christine, who humbling took blame for hurting me when I had done much more harm to her. "And only asked that I return to you if I felt unsafe." She breathed deeply. "I was a fool to think Madame could keep me safe when she invited Frederich into our house. I have no true family left…"_

_I heard the name of her tormentor for the first time. I locked it away in my memory, so that I would never forget it._

_"There is no one to protect me." She continued. I could hear her crying through her words. The sound of her weeping tore at me._

_"Then do you realize, that I can offer you that protection Christine." I was a monster. I did not deserve this beautiful creature's love or pity. Yet I still begged for it. "Please, say you'll stay with me."_

_"I will." Her response was immediate and my heart leaped at the sound of those words. Those words I dared to hope for. I want to rush to her side, and pull her body close to me. To kiss away her tears and express to her the joy I felt in my heart._

_But I did not. I after all I was still a man, and Christine…was a temptation._

_I had given her my promise many times before. I would not touch her. Not in that way._

_A large splash echoed through the room. "I need a towel, Erik." I rushed to find her one, and with my eyes lowered I walked around the screen that separated us and approached her. She took the towel from my out stretched hands and wrapped it around her body. Then she turned around to face me, her feet still submerged in the tub._

_"Erik…thank you… for." She started._

_I placed a finger just in front of her lips, but not touching them. "You should go to bed Christine." I informed her. "We'll have time to talk more in the morning."_

_Now that you are here, we'll have all the time in the world…_

* * *

><p>Hope I didn't scare any of you reader away with that chapter (it is rated T) But to clarify Frederich doesn't get to the point were he had full intercourse with Christine.<p>

Oh but what he did was bad enough...and now Erik knows...

Some one is going to get their comeuppances!

Please read and review!


	16. Act Two: Chapter Six

I awoke early the next morning, acting as if it were any other day. I cleaned my face and combed my hair. As I went to pick out something to wear, I noticed a crumpled wad of fabric on the floor. I kicked it with my foot to see the blue skirt still soaked with muddy water and the cream blouse stained with brown red blood.

And then I remembered everything. The sting of Frederich's hand across my face and the sick sensation that he had been so close to truly claiming me. I thought of Erik and what he must think of me. I hadn't even explained in detail of what had occurred.

_Well we will see how much your Erik loves you after he sees what I've done to you!_

A shudder passed through me as I thought of his words. I remembered the warm water and his strong arms placing me in the tub. My hands lapping water over my body and under my shift, in a desperate attempt to get clean. To wash away the smell, the feel and the pain of the whole ordeal. I wanted to be clean for my maestro who might not love me if he thought I was nothing more than damaged goods.

No, this was not like any other morning. I had run away from everything I knew. This was my home now. Erik was as capable as any man to take advantage of me if he wanted, but even as his prisoner he did not make any gesture to compromise me. But in all the time we had been together, being so close, his advances upon me were never sexual ones.

I could look back on this and say that I had traded life in one man's hell only to live in another's. Upon leaving my room, I saw Erik seated at the small table in the tiny kitchen. He still wore the same clothes from last night. His jacket lay on the floor and his sleeves remained up at his elbows. He sat staring at nothing, cradling a cup of tea between his hands.

His head jerked up as he heard me close my door. His hair, usually clubbed behind his neck, hung loose and wild over his black mask. He found his voice.

"Christine, you are up early." He stated.

"I could say the same for you, Erik" I replied descending the stairs.

"I don't need much sleep." He informed me.

"I thought it would rouse more suspicion if I did not return to the opera, especially after my previous absence."

He nodded. "How is your arm?" he asked.

I glanced at it. When I had been injured, I hadn't even seen where I had been cut. Even now my wounds were an afterthought.

"We need to have a look." Erik said in a matter of fact tone. "I should have tended to them last night."

"Oh, why didn't you?" I asked.

His lips pursed in a serious frown. "You were not decent."

Part of me was still surprised by this shyness within him. I had wanted his help. I had returned to him. I had begged him to hold me in his arms that night. "That's doesn't matter. I trust you enough…"

" Because I didn't want to touch you!" the words exploded from him. "I didn't want to touch you. I saw how much you were hurt and believe me I would have kept you in my arms all night. Don't think I didn't want…to." He paused and looked at me solemnly but I saw the look of pain in his eyes.

Then I understood. He was ashamed of himself. To the point that he kept away, and the only reason he had to be ashamed was that he was a man. A man had done this to me, and despite the careful reserve he had display around me, Erik was capable of such desires...and actions. "I couldn't bring myself to touch you knowing what...how you had been treated. How you had been harmed." His gaze was concentrated on me, locking his eyes with mine. His hands were stretched across the table, his long fingers reaching but restrained from making contact. Then he stood and collected some items from the cupboards. He brought back some scraps of white fabric, a warm kettle and a bowl, to which he poured the warm water from the kettle.

"I'll need to see your arm, if you'll permit me." He gestured with an outstretch hand and in a tone as formal as a real doctor. The dress I had chosen had a bodice that fastens up the front, which I undid. I snaked my arm out of the sleeve and presented it to him.

He turned his head away. "Sit down across the table, with your back to me if you please." He instructed. He seemed so embarrassed to look at me. While I wasn't completely decent with my chemise and corset exposed on one side, I did not feel any shame in having him look at me. Last night…he had seen worst. I did as I was told, stretching my arm back behind my body and across the table. In a moment I felt a sting against my skin as Erik soaked my cut with a hot rag.

"It isn't a very deep cut, thank God." He explained. "Now that you seem to be in a more… calmer state of mind, would you tell me everything that happened?" he asked.

I took a deep breath as I felt another splash of steaming water over my arm. "I wanted to go home as quickly as possible. But when I reached the house, there was no one there. Not even my guardian who rarely leaves her home because of her health. I think I fell asleep by the fire and I went up to my room to find something warm to wear. That is when…." I searched for the right words. "He cornered me."

The heat of the water was replaced by the dry soft texture of a towel, buffing my skin. "He wasn't drunk. He knew exactly what he was doing. I tried to run out but…I couldn't get pass him." I took another labored breath trying not to let the emotion of the event interrupt me. "Before I knew what happened he slapped me, several times. I feel over and then he pinned me to the bed. He said the most awful things to me…"

I felt a slight pressure as Erik methodically began to wrap my arms with bandages. "Erik, please know that…my virtue is still intact. He came close to raping me…but he did not secede." I felt I owned him an explanation.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

"I kept a knife hidden between my mattresses, in case anything like this happened." I look down at the cut across my collar. Now that I paid attention, I saw I had been sliced but it had already started to scab over the mark. "I attacked him and then I dropped the knife, which is how I cut myself. I managed to stick it in his leg before I kicked him and then ran out."

"Indeed?" Erik's voice seemed surprised and amused.

I allowed myself one small thought of satisfaction. "Let's say I kicked him in an area most uncomfortable."

He sighed behind me. "You are braver than I gave you credit for Christine. Very brave, but I am glad that you came back to me for help…just like you promised."

I stood up and turned to face him.

"I trust you Erik. You have made me a promise on several occasions that you would never treat me that…way." I looked up at my newly bandaged arm. I turned around in my chair to face him. My bodice still undone, his eyes glanced at my chest for only a second before he lowered them. I pulled back on my sleeve and fastened my bodice closed once more. "And beside, you've seen what happens." I touched my arms to emphasize my point. "And know I'll do the same thing to you if you dare break that promise." I added in the most threatening voice I could muster.

Erik smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. It was a dark sinister expression. His words were smooth.

"That's my girl…"

* * *

><p>Erik showed me the way out of the cellars and into the backstage area. I made my way causally to Genny's dressing room. I braced myself for more questions about my strange disappearance, but instead Genny could not stop talking about my audition from yesterday.<p>

In her mind, Genny's plans for my singing career seemed as grand as Erik's.

"Don't get too excited. I may have only hurt my chances of getting into the chorus. I haven't been offered anything yet."

As soon as I had finished speaking there was a knock at the door.

"Ah it must be opportunity knocking." Genny pointed out as she ran to answer it. Camille stuck her head in and looked around.

"Good thing you haven't disappeared again Christine. I've come to tell you that your presence is requested by M. Moncharmin and Richard in their office." She informed me with a smile. Genny gave a girlish squeal and nearly pull my arm out of my socket as she dragged me out the door and down the hall. Camille followed us from the backstage area up to the manager's office. We stood in front of the doors and suddenly I felt very nervous.

Genny knocked for me. The large doors creaked open and the stern face of M. Gabriel greeted us.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Daae. Please join us." He said flatly.

I stepped across the threshold, feeling a push from behind. M. Gabriel made a blunt noise clearing his throat. "Ladies, if you would kindly wait outside." He stated, shutting the door in Camille and Genny's eager faces.

The managers' office was very much what I expected. Although the opera had just opened six years ago, this room seemed steeped with history. Two large desks sat in each corner of the room, each decorated with assorted statutes and artifacts. They were merely decorative, for no real work was placed upon them. The room was on the east side of the building and sunlight spilled in through a large window, hung with gold curtains.

M. Richard sat at his desk, intently examining a box of cigars. M. Moncharmin stood by the window chatting with M. Mercier. All eyes turned to me.

I was surprised to see M. Mercier look at me and flash a bright smile. "Ah Mademoiselle, we are so glad you can join us." He exclaimed. "Please have a seat." He offered me his hand and escorted me to a large high back chair near one of the desks.

"Thank you. " I said. "Now how can I help you gentlemen?"

Mercier, Moncharmin and even Gabriel all seemed to speak at the same time, their voice running together. M. Richard glanced directly at me, put up his hand and spoke the clearest and the loudest.

"Christine, first things first. We have all heard the news about what happened to you and Mlle. de Chagny the closing night of _Orpheus_, and we were all very concerned when you did not return." He leaned across the desk. "Is there anything further you want to tell us?" he asked.

Again I was forced to lie. "No sir. I'm still in disbelief that I managed to get away from…who ever it was that was chasing me… us."

"Mlle. de Chagny was most distraught at your disappearance. Apparently you were not at your residence when she went to call on you. It was at that point that my partner and I became very concerned for your whereabouts." He continued.

I was certain that Genny and Camille both had their ears to the door, expecting to hear words of congratulations. Instead this meeting had turned quickly into an interrogation.

"Yes, I wasn't there. I had to move out of my guardian's home due to some…unpleasantness." I explained.

At that, Richard's face softened from the serious façade of a businessman to a look that showed genuine concern. "I see. Do you need any assistance in finding lodging? We do have dormitories here at the opera that you can stay in if you like. That is if you still feel safe staying here?"

If only he knew. "Thank you for your offer, monsieur. But I have already found another place to stay. I do appreciate your concern though, as well as everyone else." I glanced around the room. "I did not realize my absences would cause such a disturbance in the company, so I want to apologize for any grief I may have put you through." My reply was almost too precise.

"Enough of this talk, Richard." Moncharmin butted in. "It's plain to see the girl is alright and no harm has come to her. Let us get down to business."

"Indeed." added Mercier. "Mademoiselle, why did you not audition for the chorus when you first came to the opera several months ago?"

"I didn't think there was a chance for open auditions, and at the time I needed money first so I answered Madame LeRoy's advertisement for help in the costume department." This line of questioning had me guessing.

"And mademoiselle, have you have had formal lessons before?" Mercier continued.

I nodded. "A long time ago. My family was a good friend of the late music professor Valerius. He gave me singing lessons when I was a girl, but he died when I was thirteen."

"And how old are you now?"

"Nineteen sir, nearly twenty."

I heard M. Gabriel grumbled behind me. "Impossible…" We all turned to face in his direction.

"Speak up old man." Mericer chided his colleague.

"It's impossible that she could sing with the technique I heard yesterday. Not if she hasn't had proper instructions in over six years!" Gabriel augured.

A grin slowly worked its way onto my face. Gabriel had inadvertently admitted that he recognized something special, even if he was too much of a grouse to say it outright.

"Doesn't mean she hasn't sung a note in all those year?" Mericer counter. "Am I right, mademoiselle?"

"Yes, I have kept singing, if only for pleasure."

"You see the girl had natural talent." Moncharmin finally spoke in my defense.

A disgusted sigh left the chorus master's lips. "Talent like that it not natural." He remarked grimly.

"If afraid it's not your decision then, M. Gabriel." Moncahmin spoke out in a clipped tone. He walked over to the desk Richard sat at and looked over his shoulder at the box of cigars. "As for me, I think this is a golden opportunity for publicity." He reached over and snatched a cigar, much to the displeasure of M. Richard. "Mademoiselle Daae, would you be willing to sign a contract?"

I held my breath for a moment, shocked. "To be in the chorus?" I asked.

Moncharmin chuckled and even M. Richard cracked a smile. "No my dear. We want you to play the role of Cherubnio, of course!" he exclaimed.

I sat rigid in my chair. I knew that somehow Erik must have had his hand in all of this. He arranged for the auditions to happen in the first place. If he had the power that the Opera Ghost was rumored to have, then his demands that I sing the role would be met. Yet in my heart, I wanted to hope that somehow I had been solely responsible for this happening. I wanted to believe in my voice and in my talent.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Despite this smile on my face, I can assure you Mademoiselle Daae that I am very serious." Richard replied. "Mercier can go through it with you in detail later, but are you interested in it now." He folded his hands across his desk and I again I felt all eyes on me.

"Yes." I said. I stood up and bowed my head. "I thank you gentlemen for this great opportunity. I hope that my voice is up to the task."

"If you sing as well as you did yesterday then you have nothing to worry about." Mercier reassured me. Feeling this was the right time; I dismissed myself and headed to the door, before my I tripped over my words of gratitude.

"Rehearsal starts at one o clock sharp this afternoon." Gabriel informed me as he moved to open the door. "Contract or not, I expect to see you there."

Genny and Camille fell over themselves as the door open, exposing them pressed against it. They merely giggled, not embarrassed at all to be caught eavesdropping.

"That goes for you as well ladies." He added.

* * *

><p>Genny had been more than happy to share her dressing room with me. Despite its size in comparison to the spacious room of La Carlotta, we had just enough space for the two of us. I returned from my first rehearsal feeling ecstatic. I stepped into Genny's dressing room, locking the door to secure for me a moment of privacy. In my arms I held my own copy of the score to Mozart's <em>Le Nozze di Figaro.<em> Turning the pages, I remember seeing a piece that invoked the same feelings I felt now. It was a brief aria by Cherubino in the second act. One that Erik and I had glanced over in our lesson, but had not devoted too much attention to. I felt the thrilled sensation run over me, knowing that all of these words and notes were now my responsibility.

I turned to the aria and let myself sing it out loud for my own pleasure.

"This new sensation, I under go. It is so different from all I know. Filled with excitement, walking on air. First I am happy…soon I despair."

I did not want to feel vain, but at the same time I could not help myself in feeling pride in my new surroundings. Yes, I had been in this dressing room many times before, but now I was here and part of this was mine. A place where I would put on a costume for myself instead of dressing someone else.

"Not for a moment am I the same…but it eludes me try as I may. I can't stop sighing hard as I try, and then I tremble, not knowing why."

I sighed.

"Bravo Christine…" I heard Erik's voice call from behind me. It startled me so much that I dropped my music. I glanced around the room, expecting him to appear from a dark corner. But the room was only so big and there were few places to hide.

"Erik. Where are you? Please do not hide." I begged.

"Finish the song for me Christine." He commanded. "And then I will reveal myself."

Despite all reason, I felt as if his voice issued from behind the wall. I starred at the full length mirror, with its gaudy gold frame. I knelt to pick up my music and I heard him laugh, softly.

"We both know you don't need to look at the music." He scolded me in a joking manner before his voice once again grew soft and serious." Sing for me, Christine."

"From this dilemma, I find no peace and yet…I want it…never to cease."

I pressed hands against the glass, starring at my reflection as I sang. No longer did I see the shy timid face gazing back at me. I had gone through hell and back, and despite my fears, I was ready to enter hell once again. This was the face of a girl who knowing she would burn herself…still played with fire.

"You know the answer, you hold the key…Love's tender secrets share it…with me."

The solid surface beneath my hand disappeared.

"My clever Christine…" Erik whispered. I took a step back as I saw my face duplicate in the glass. At first there were two of me, then four and rapidly the image multiplied until I saw twenty sets of my own stunned expressions staring back at me.

Then they too disappeared and were replaced by Erik's intimidating form standing were the mirror had once been. He reached out a hand, beckoning me.

"What is…?" I started to ask, dumbfounded at what I was now seeing.

He lifted a shoulder as a gesture of indifference. "Many false passages were designed between the walls of this great monument. I have been here for many years, so I decided to take advantage of this peculiar design." He stated causally. " During the Commune, they uses these passages to carry prisoners from the street level to the dungeons below. It's ingenious really. I'm glad to see after all this time; I finally have a proper use for it."

Even though his tone was light, I knew he was not jesting. My fingers twisted behind my back as he spoke.

_Dungeons_.

He toward a step forward, his hand still waiting for mine. My feet were possessed not by my own will. I would have run, but instead they moved me forward. My fingers touched the warm cotton of his gloves, remembering how tenderly they had cared for me last night.

This was yet another entrance to the Underworld.


	17. Act Two: Chapter Seven

Over the next few days, the myth of Hades and Persephone soon became my reality. By day I attended rehearsals and socialized with members of the chorus like any normal person. But at night I was spirited away to a dark lonely place, filled with trappings, trinkets to please me and a lord who adored me.

I would find something new left for me everyday in my room. It was filled with countless treasures that Erik had acquired to make me happy, or forgetful. I had refused to touch them before, but now I found a new item left for me in the chair by my bed every morning. A boxes of chocolates, a new book, a new pair of gloves, a delicate string of pearls or a bracelet of rich tiger eye beads. Each laid out like a peace offering, and I started to accept them if only to keep Erik satisfied.

I attended singing rehearsals in the morning with the rest of the cast and continued to work through the music. My concentration on learning the notes and the Italian libretto was so great that I often forgot the incredibly strange predicament I found myself in. After lunch, we went over the blocking with M. Mercier, adding the tasks of acting and movement to my never ending lists on duties. I often found myself very content and happy during these rehearsals despite the hard work. I was certain that my fellow singers would look down at me, but instead many offered to coach me in my naivety. M. Fonta and M. Nicol who played Figaro gave me joking suggestions of how to act more like a man. I was scolded for grinning widely at Figaro's aria when my character was supposed to be struck with fear and remorse. The other women of the chorus welcomed me openly into their circle, even though I was certain my prior friendship with Genny influenced their decision.

Singing on stage, and living my dream was much more fun and jovial than I had imagined the serious and glorious experience to be.

Then like Hades emerging from the underworld, Erik always came to claim me. Sometime he appeared at the mirror but mostly he found me wandering in the passages and led me away with such swiftness and stealth, we might as well been ghosts slipping through the walls. He showed me the path from him home to the ground floor. I had been unable to find our rehearsal room after weeks of searching so naturally I became lost when ever I set out on my own to find my way back. Also Erik had mentioned that in the days of the Paris Commune, the unfinished cellars of the opera had been used as torture chambers. I was certain that Erik had laid many traps using this gruesome situation to his advantage. It was too dangerous to wander in the cellars without him as a guide.

Every evening, my training continued. First more singing lesson then Erik would ask me to demonstrate what I had rehearsed that afternoon. He was so eager, that he rearranged the furniture in the sitting room, and acted the parts of the other performers while I sang and moved across the room.

I felt uneasy by his untamed enthusiasm. Since he had confessed that he was often watching me before he had introduced himself, I only assumed that he was always watching me. I often glanced up at Box Five, certain that I saw that familiar shadow. I wanted to ask him why he insisted on having me sing again at night, if he had been listening to me already that day. But in my gut I knew the horrible answer. Here, I was his private singer, performing on his private stage only for him. And he was determined to keep me.

I kept him pleased for the moment. And I feared that keeping Erik pleased was my only solution to keep his anger from being unleashed.

* * *

><p>"No it is wrong!" Carlotta stopped singing and interrupted the smooth flow of music yet again.<p>

It took a great effort by M. Gabriel not to throw his score down onto the floor in frustration. Carlotta had been making a great show at causing a disturbance during our rehearsal so far. Today as we rehearsed the music for the second act, she had been at her finest, stopping to correct first me and then Genny over our notes.

The recitative between the Countess, Cherubino and Susanna was a quick paced piece like many of the others in the opera. Each singer's lines flowed into another as if in rapid conversation. M. Fonta had been waiting patiently for us to arrive at his entrance which was a mere two pages ahead of were we were. But we ended up repeating the same scene over and over. If anyone else had tried this, the no nonsense chorus master would be quick to put them in their place.

But this was _La Diva_.

"What is wrong this time?" Gabriel asked rubbing at his temples.

"Nothing with me." Carlotta said coyly. "But Daae has changed the notes once again. It is suppose to be naturals and Daae is singing flat."

I forced myself not to glare at her. Genny had been sending enough nasty looks at her for the both of us. "It's naturals on the staff, but it changes to both E flat and B flat in the fourth measure." I explained calmly to M. Gabriel. I also noticed Carlotta hadn't even been looking at the music when she point out my "mistake".

"Yes, yes it does." Gabriel agreed in a tried voice. "Shall we continue, Carlotta?"

"Very well."

What made this rehearsal all the more frustration was this was suppose to be a friendly and romantic scene in which Susanna persuades Cherubino to sing the love song he has written for the Countess. We were only into a few days of rehearsal and Carlotta had already made it very clear that she was not at all pleased that I was playing her romantic interest.

"No, remember it's a flat, Madame!" Gabriel corrected after a few more lines. He was barely constraining himself. Now it was Carlotta turn to not hit the right notes.

"Ah but it's natural in the staff. My mistake." She said dismissively.

"Is she daft?" Genny muttered under breath. "We just went over this two seconds ago. The stupid sign in right there on the page." I spared a glance at my friend, to give her my sympathy. I had heard enough warning from Genny and enough rumors from others about Carlotta's demanding behavior. I had always thought them to be exaggerations, but I was daily proven wrong.

"Please we only have two measures left till the arietta. Can we just finish this scene?" Gabriel begged as the other artists nodded their heads in agreement. "Daae if you could please run through this piece as quickly and painlessly as possible, I would be gladly in your debt" Gabriel struck the notes on the piano. Genny finished her last lines before the notes of the _ritornello_ started the beginning of Cherubino's ariette.

I took a deep breath trying to imagine the scene. For now we rehearsed on an empty stage with only a few chairs as a set. So I thought instead of the stage filled with light, each of us dressed in the fine costumes and Genny as Susanna, strumming prettily on a guitar.

"You know the answer you hold the key. Love's tender secret, share it with me…"

The piece ended shortly unlike Cherubino's first aria. The notes lifted from the keyboard softy as I brought my voice down low match the volume. M. Gabriel nodded at my in relief and then struck another note. When he was met with silence, he struck it again louder.

"Madame Carlotta…" he groaned.

Carlotta cleared her throat, now realizing that the next lines was her's "_Bravo, che bella voce…_" she started. I'm sure it annoyed her to exclaim to me, even in character that "_Your voice is lovely_."

"A little more in enthusiasm if you please."

"Perhaps if I felt moved enough by that dull piece to be so enthusiastic, I would." She stated and I knew that by 'dull piece' she meant my singing and not Mozart's music. "I do not see why we should continue in this way. I already know this opera by heart."

Genny murmured curses that only I could hear. I blushed for her, wondering if her brothers knew she spoke like that.

"Sadly I agree. I think I would like to work with the gentleman for the rest of the day. Ladies you are excused." Gabriel said. I felt disappointed. I was relishing each moment I had a chance to rehearse if only to learn something new. But it seems Carlotta's antics had driven the chorus master to his breaking point.

Genny sighed and gathered up her music and coat. "Too bad, we were making such progress." She shot a sour look at Carlotta but the diva had already strutted away.

I decided to make a joke of it to lighten both our mood. "It's my fault I suppose." And then I sang one of my lines sarcastically. "Today I'm not in voice."

It did the trick as Genny let out a burst of laughter. "Oh but no my brave solider." She answered in character. "Bravo, your voice is lovely! I did not know you were such an expert singer" repeating Carlotta's line.

I smiled and offered her a round of applause as we made out way back to our room.

"I need a coffee after going through all that." She confessed. "Would you care to join me at the cafe?"

"I think I'll pass. See you tomorrow then?"

"Of course. Au revior Christine."

When I got back to our dressing room, I hurried to grab my coat and hat. I thought at least this would be the perfect opportunity to try and find the hospital were Madame was at. I had tried to find time over the past few days but rehearsal took up most of my time and Erik was still uncertain about letting me go anywhere where Frederich might find me again. His concerns were well grounded. He could have been out looking for me and seeing as he knew I would try to visit Madame, he might have been waiting for me there.

But I had to try. I decided to sit down and write a letter to Erik, explaining were I was. Surely he would understand. I had been dutiful to him...so far.

There was a knock at my door and I went to open it, expecting to find either Genny or Camille on the other side.

The concerned gaze of Raoul de Chagny starred back at me. I was startled enough by his appearance that I took a step backwards.

"Raoul, what a pleasant surprise." I exclaimed. But my mood was far from pleasant. My second thought after my surprise was on of fear. Erik could very well be listening behind the mirror. I could only imagine the intense anger that would fill him if he discovered me talking to Raoul alone.

"Yes, it is. I'm am happy to see you Christine, alive and well." Raoul returned my greeting with one of a cold and stiff manner. Now my confusion deepen at his morose tone, which was so unlike him. "May I come in?"

My hand acted of its own accord, thrusting it forward into his broad chest to stop him. "No you must not!" I protested.

His lips formed into a pout that very much reminded me of his sister. "Why not?"

"You can't be alone with me in my dressing room...what if...someone saw? I cannot have it known that I entertained you..." I stumbled over my words.

Raoul's thumb rested under my chin as he pressed another finger to my lips to stop my babbling. "Are you that concerned? Is that what you think of me." The light pitch of his voice was back as spoke, yet his face did not indicted any sense of happiness.

"Yes..." I whispered.

His wide shoulders dropped with a sigh. "Christine, I'm your friend. I've known you since we were children. What does it matter now?" He tried to step inside but I blocked him. I could feel invisible eyes boring into the back of my head. I was so filled with anxiety that I could picture Erik standing behind me, watching and judging.

"I need to talk to you." he pleaded.

"Not in here, not alone." I demanded. "Please Raoul, if not for my sake then for yours. What would people say if they saw you here?"

I watched his beautiful broad hand reach upwards to stroke a thick patch of hair. His hair was a darker blond then Genny's but it still had some of his boyish curls in it. They had been long when he was younger, but now he had clipped them back so only a few short ones remained at the top of his head.

"You think that because of my title, I need to be more careful of the places I'm seen and the friends I have?" he asked.

I nodded. "You should be."

Another exasperated sigh escaped his lips. "Well I'm not! Please, Christine you've been gone for two weeks without a word. I only came to see if you were alright. You weren't at your home. I called on you everyday for a week and you weren't there." He took my hand in his. "Please can we just talk?" He brought it up to his mouth and laid a gentle kiss over my knuckles. "Who cares who is looking."

I pulled my hand away and then with the other pushed Raoul out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.

"All right then. How have you been?" I gestured for him to follow me down the hallway.

"Bored. Philippe returned to the estate, but I decided to stay at the townhouse with Genny. Someone has to look after her." he replied then turned on me. "Now, do you mind telling me were you have been?"

So this was to be another integration. "Not here. I was too frighten to return to the opera."

"Do you have any idea who was chasing you that night. Genny seems to hardly remember anything that happened before you screamed at her and lead her away?" he prodded.

"No. I don't know who it was. He was hidden. He wore a large cloak that covered his whole face. He was after Genny, but I stopped him and we took off." I explained.

"And after that? Are you sure you weren't hurt?"

I shot him a disapproving glance. "Trust me Raoul, if who ever it was managed to catch me, do you think I would be standing here now?" I pointed out. "Please, can we not talk about this? It...upsets me..."

He frowned but nodded in agreement. "I actually came here to apologize."

We reached the end of the hallway and I guided him down another that lead towards the foyer of the ballet. "For what?"

"For the last time we spoke. Outside the opera after dinner. You pulled away and said you would be right back. And when you didn't come, I knew my words had driven you away."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"When Genny first told me what had happened I didn't believe it." He admitted. "But as the days passed, I began to worry and then I was concerned with a premonition that was so frightening to me. Something worst than the idea of you being spirited away."

I almost didn't want to ask him. "And what was that?"

His eyes closed tightly is if it pained him to speak. "I thought that since you had been gone for sometime, that you were never going to come back. I thought…" he licked his dried lips. "That you had run away to be with a lover."

At first his confession angered me. First Frederich and now Raoul! They had both assumed that I had run off to be with a lover. Had no one really thought that I was in danger? I supposed my disappearance had quickly been dismissed as other reason that I was no more than a common harlot who simple retreated into another man's arms.

He continued as we walked now side by side. " I thought you had run off because of what I had said to you, that night after dinner. It was very stupid of me to assume so much of you and to be so bold." His hands were clasped in front of him and he clenched them tightly. "I am a horrible person. While everyone else was concerned for your safety, I must confess I was consumed with jealousy at the thought of you with another man. When Genny told me you had returned, I was shocked. So that's why I came here. I had to know." He stopped and place a hand on my shoulder.

"And I had to let you know how sorry I was...and still am."

His gentle touch and his words full of self pity struck a chord with me. He reminded me of ….Erik. The same pleas and self loathing for the harm they both perceived they had done to me. The same desperate tone I could hear in both of their voices.

"Raoul...I ran home and told Madame what happened. She forbid me to return to the opera. And then she took very ill. She went to the hospital and then there was...some unpleasantness." I could feel myself tearing up, but not at the thought of what Frederich had done to me.

My tears were brought on by the memory of the sad and painful look in Erik's eyes when I had told him what happened. When he realized how I had been shamed.

"Raoul when you called on Madame Vaerlius, did you by chance speak to man about our age?"

"No I spoke to what I assumed was your housekeeper. But I confessed I stopped coming by after a week. Who is this other man?" he asked with a hint of suspicion. As if he thought I would confirm his doubts about me.

"I pray you never meet him. He is Madame's nephew, estranged from his parents...He..."

"Christine! You're crying."

I fumbled in my pocket for my handkerchief and brought it up to my face to stop my sniffing. " Raoul...he tried to rape me." I said through clenched teeth. "I had to leave. That's why I wasn't at my home. That's why I haven't been here. I've been so afraid he would find me." It was the truth. As long as I was with Erik, I had no need to be frightened of Frederich finding me, but I still was full of fear. Even now he could have returned to the opera, seeking me out.

Where as Erik would have timidly asked for my permission, Raoul instead flung out his arms and pulled me closer to him, my ear pressed hard against his shoulder blade.

"God! Why didn't you tell me? Why did you not come to me?" he asked.

"I didn't know were you lived. I couldn't burden you with my problems." I breathed into his ear.

"I'll kill him!" Raoul hissed. His embrace grew tighter as he swore."Had I only known, I would have challenged that scoundrel."

"Listen to yourself, Raoul. You can't do that! Would you risk jail...and your family's name for my sake?"

"Yes! But then..." he started. "Have you told anyone else? The police"

I shook my head. "Would they even believe me?" I pulled away and gripped his forearm tightly. "Promise me you won't tell Genny."

He nodded but I could tell he was very disappointed at me. He didn't understand. He was a man, a privileged one at that. People would believe his word, but no one would take my word over Frederich's. Even if I had gone to the police, where would have I gone afterwards?

I had ran to the only place in the world I felt safe. The home of my protector and...jailer.

"Please, I don't want to talk about this...anymore..." I begged.

"Where have you been staying?" Raoul asked.

I scrambled to devise another lie. "I went to the home of my music teacher. His wife took care of me and they both gave me some money to stay in a boarding house for ladies." It seemed comical to me having Raoul imagine Erik as nothing more than an ordinary old man with a ordinary house...and now I had invented a wife for him.

"Good then may I call on you there?" he inquired.

I frowned at him. "It wouldn't be proper."

He matched my frown with one of his own. "Oh so we are back to that again."

"Yes. Like I said you should be more careful of where you are seen. What if someone would mistake our old childhood friendship for something else?" We had made our way to the foyer, the light from the lamps casting a misty glow over the stairwell, like fog over a lake.

"Did you hear the good news? I am a singer now!" I exclaimed with forced joy, trying to distract him.

"Yes, I heard. My sister hasn't stopped talking about it since yesterday. My congratulations to you Christine." he answered

I went to take the first step down, but he stopped me, catching my hand. I couldn't help but be pulled back to his side.

"Despite my title and my name, I care very little for what other may think of me. Let them see us. Are you so afraid to be seen with me? Are you afraid to be judged?" He leaned over and stroked a stray strand of hair that fell against my cheek. "I apologized for what I said that night, but that doesn't mean I wasn't sincere _about_ what I said."

I turned away and looked over the banister, afraid to look into his eyes, knowing what he might say. "Christine, I care for you...more than you know. That is why I was so jealous when you disappeared. A friend wouldn't think that...not if he had the feelings that I have for you..." his voice trailed off.

_Raoul...don't say these things...please._

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Mademoiselle Daae?" a voice called.

We both looked down the stairs were the voice had come from. Two men had seemed to appear out of nowhere, walking up the stairs towards us.

"It is Daae?" The man who had spoken first was wearing a simple dark navy suit with a short cut jacket. He had dark hair and a long distinguished mustache. An emblem that I did not recognized was pinned on his left breast pocket.

"Yes." I answered.

"At last." the other man sighed. He was a few inches shorter than his companion. His features were fair and his light brown hair was streaked with grey. His choice of suit was more formal, hinting that he was a man of means. "This place is a maze."

Raoul spoke up. "How we may we help you gentleman?"

The man with the mustache nodded at us. "Forgive our intrusion I am Inspector Durand and this is M. Girard. We need to speak to Mlle. Daae on a very serious matter."

I felt my whole body grow tense. Among the many fears that had plagued my thoughts in the past few days was the possibility that Frederich had reported my assault to the police. I knew the moment I pulled that knife, my word against his was worthless. He now had scars and wounds to prove I had attacked him. I'm sure it would have given him great pleasure to see me dragged away by the police and punished for my 'crime'.

"Is that so? Well say what you must gentleman." Raoul now stood behind me, a hand pressed at the small of my back. His tone was defensive.

"Forgive our intrusion, sir." the man continued. "We've come to speak on behalf of the late Madame Vaerlius."

My heart dropped at the sound of that word. _Late..._

He went on talking. "We understand you were her ward. However evidence leads us to discover that you were no longer living at her home."

My hand shook and the handkerchief in my hand feel to the floor.

"Wait...she's..." I started.

One look at my made the man's eyes grow wide with surprise. "You didn't know?" he asked. "I knew she...was sick...but I...didn't" I felt myself choking on the words as I spoke them.

The other man lowered his eyes in respect. "Yes, I'm afraid she passed away only yesterday." he explained with a genuine sadness in his voice. Now Raoul's arms were around my waist, as my knees buckled beneath me. I found myself too shocked to cry.

"Christine...oh Christine...I'm so sorry." he whispered into my ear.

I had begged for a chance to return, to tell Madame I was all right. To tell her that I had to leave, to be with someone who could protect me. I wanted to at least say goodbye...and now I would never get the chance.

"I'm Madame's estate lawyer, mademoiselle. I am very sorry that you had to hear this from us. But we were forced to seek you out with much urgency regarding her will." M. Girard explained.

"Her will? But I'm not even a blood relative." I explained.

"Yes, we know that."

"Then what does this have to do with Christine?" Raoul growled

M. Girard held a tan satchel across his arms, matching the color of his suit. He gave Raoul a sour look. "Madame Vaerilus stated in her will that in the event of her death, her entire estate would be left in the hands of her nephew Frederich Vaerilus." he informed me in flat tone.

I bit my lip. I wasn't surprised that Frederich would do this. He was certainly capable of it.

"But now the estate is entrusted to you, Mademoiselle Daae. M. Vaerlius is...unable to inherit it." Girard began to explain .

"I don't understand..."

The inspector cut in. "Mademoiselle...Frederich Vaerlius was founded dead this morning. He was murdered."

My eyes rolled backwards in my head and I fainted in Raoul's arms.


	18. Act Two: Chapter Eight

I came to in my dressing room. I opened my eyes to the rather ridiculous sight of Raoul waving one of Genny's wooden fans over my face. I sat up quickly, embarrassed.

"Thank God, she's alright." M. Girard exclaimed.

I pressed a hand to my forehead. I glanced over at the mirror, annoyed and nervous that I had been brought back here. Raoul picked up my other hand and held it tightly.

"Christine, you fainted. You should go home. Let me fetch my carriage." he insisted.

"No...thank you." I spoke softly at first then turned to the other men. I was glad Genny wasn't here as well. I hope that no one had seen me carried back to my room, unconscious. One misconstrued glance from one of the ballet girls or even Camille would result in ten different rumors by tomorrow morning.

"Frederich is...dead..." I barely believed the words as I spoke them.

"Indeed, this is why we came to find you. Not just about the will, but to see if you had any information about what might have happened." Durand said.

Raoul's face went bright red with angry as he shouted at the inspector. "What are you implying, sir? She just found out about this. She fainted for Christ's sake!"

The inspector brought up his hands in a defensive gesture, but he glanced at my out of the corner of his eyes He probably had seen this all before. The benefactor dies and the sole heir is discovered dead by mysterious circumstances shortly after. I could tell he had already made his assumption about me. I was after all an opera singer...an actress.

"Not at all, vitcomte." he apologized. "If anything I am concerned for the safety of Mlle. Daae. The circumstances of the murder were most unusual and...disturbing. We were afraid if the motive for the murder was money; that the murderer might be after her as well."

Anyone else in my situation probably would have gone white as a sheet, but I remained calm and motionless.

"How would you state your relationship was between you and M. Varelius?" he quickly asked.

I glanced over at Raoul. He and I both knew the truth, but if I confessed that Frederich had abused me, it would only taint my innocence. Revenge for rape and the ability to collect an entire estate; it was the perfect motive.

"He lived with Madame and I for about a year. I understood that he had been disowned by his parents and was out on his own." I licked my lips as I was again forced to lie. "He was very busy with his gentlemanly pursuits...so I'm afraid our relationship was no more than a causal acquaintanceship. But I am still very shocked that someone would actually kill him."

"Do you know if he had any enemies?"

He had just made Raoul one. "I figured that he had a gambling problem, but it wasn't my place to speak to him about it."

"Yes, but from the evidence we found at the crime scene, it did not look like the typical slaying done by someone who wanted just money."

"What happened?" I asked.

The inspector lowered his eyes and stroked his mustache. "I'd rather not say. You will find it very upsetting."

"Please?"

"He was found in Montmartre outside a gaming hall. It obvious that his killer wanted him found for he displayed his corpse out so others could see his handiwork. He was robbed and beaten very severely. We aren't sure if these wounds were acquired post mortem. But whoever did this to him, wanted him to suffer. He had several cuts and lacerations across his body, in very precise places. We believe his murderer wanted him to slowly bleed to death."

I looked over at the mirror, thinking about Frederich and his 'enemies' I thought of Raoul's threat only minutes ago. Then it hit me.

Frederich had another person who wouldn't hesitant to label himself an enemy.

"He was finally put out of his misery after his throat was slashed. But not after...his genitals had been removed."

I lurched forward in the chair I had been placed in. Raoul's hands rushed forward, catching me under my breasts.

"Sweet God!" he yelled. "Was it really necessary to tell her that?" he challenged. My lips trembled and I was afraid I was going to be sick again

The inspector only huffed and leaned back in his chair. M. Girard spoke up.

"We didn't mean to be so upsetting. "He apologized. "But we must have the matter of Madame's estate settled without haste."

"You two have some damn nerve. Can't you show some respect! My friend has just discovered that her godmother is dead and then..." Raoul was very eager to speak for me.

"Wait!" I put up my hands to silence them all. I looked around at the anxious faces that starred back at me. That included the attentive face that I was certain was behind the mirror.

I had so much working against me. Even with the support of Raoul, I was sure the inspector would have no problem detaining me under suspicion of murder. Perhaps not as the killer but an accomplice, who stood to gain so much with the loss of Frederich's life. My friendship with the de Chagnys would not make me immune from scrutiny. They would want to know the truth. The _actual truth_ of where I had been for the past fortnight.

I was sick of feeding people lies.

"M. Girard, isn't Madame's sister still alive?"

His eyes under his small spectacles widen in surprise at my question.

"Frederich's mother? Is she still alive? I know the last we spoke, Madame told me Frederich's sister was expecting soon. While his immediate family was estranged from him, I knew that Madame still kept correspondence with them." I spoke rapidly.

"I don't understand mademoiselle..."

"I'm saying I don't want the estate. If Frederich indeed has other family members who can be contacted, let them know what has happened. And let them inherit the estate." I suggested. More surprised looks greeted me. "Can it be done sir? Can I sign away my right to the inheritance?"

"Mademoiselle...are you sure you want to do...this?" M. Girard stammered. "You would be giving up the house, the investments and an allowance of 15,000 francs a year. These are the benefits Madame stated in her will."

I would be lying if the possibility of financial security did not appeal to me. But I had to do this. I felt it was the only way to cast suspicions away from me.

Sirs, until a few days ago I was only a costume girl. I have no means. I have no assets besides my earnings from the opera. I wouldn't know the first thing to do with my own house or investments. I know that may sound strange to you, but I prefer my arrangements as they are."

Girard put a hand to his forehead, still staring with disbelief. "So you don't want anything?"  
>"Not quite. I would very much like to collect my possessions from the house as well as some books that belonged to the professor." I admitted. "That is if I'm allowed to?"<p>

"As far as I'm concerned, the estate is yours to do what you see fit with it, until you sign it over. You could empty the whole house if you like." Girard explained.

I forced a grin on my face. "No. What kind of woman do you think I am?" I asked in jest.

Girard drummed his fingers against his satchel. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you would want. You could claim some of the available cash that is certainly in the bank if you like. I admire your determination, but you also must realize there are things that a lady in your position might need. Monetary things that you may regret not having later."

He had a point. Briefly I thought of what I could use. I was wearing an old costume, and my wardrobe at home only contained a few dresses, all very outdated. I could use some new clothes. Or I could buy myself more books instead.

"No monsieur. The more you ask the more you will tempt me to take what isn't rightfully mine. I am grateful for Madame for even thinking to include me in her will. However she looked after me and my father for many years, without asking for so much as a sou in return. It would be wrong for me to take any money. So I feel in returning it to her family, I have repaid my debt to her and her husband." I started to feel a lump in my throat. This talk of inheritances, wills, murders and suspicion had almost made me forget the most important matter.

My godmother, my _mamma_ Varelius was dead. And I hadn't even gotten the chance to say good bye.

"Very well then." Girard rose to stand. "I don't think I want to try and convince you otherwise then. I shall collect the proper papers to change the will by tomorrow. Where shall I send my correspondence to you, mademoiselle?"

"Here at the opera." I said "And when…when is the funeral?"

He sighed. "Tomorrow evening. There will just be a mass and then a burial. There were no requests made for her final arrangements. But I've been her lawyer and friend for many years. I felt I at least deserve to give her a proper send off." By now he was at the door. "I'll send you word when the papers are ready. If you like you can sign them before the funeral." He paused and nodded at me. "I could escort you to the church if you'd like."

I thought this gesture very kind for he and I both knew I would have to use my own money to hire a cab.

"I would like that. Thank you."

"My pleasure, mademoiselle. Good day." He said exiting. Inspector Durand trailed behind him.

"I hope what ever your decision is, that you make sure that above all else…you stay safe." He warned. "I'm afraid to say we still have no idea who the killer might be."

_Oh, but I do…Inspector…_

"Please, if you feel that you are in any danger or you remember something that might help us, please call on me." He withdrew a calling card from his pocket and handed it to me. "My precinct is actually very close to the opera house."

"Thank you inspector."

He turned a suspicious glance over at Raoul before leaving, letting the door remain wide open behind him. Raoul seemed just as annoyed with the inspector, as a disgruntle look marred his face.

"Christine…." He started

"Raoul, I think you should leave too." I pointed out. "I know you probably have a lot to say to me, but I don't think now is the time." I looked up into his eyes that soften when he saw me. "Don't you agree?"

"I do." He said dryly, pulling at the lapel of his jacket. "I think this is yet another hint that I take your earlier advice to heart."

"And that was?" After all that had happen in the last few minutes, I found myself at a lost of memory to what I must have said.

"To be careful where I am seen and whose company I am seen with." I could hear the pain in his voice as he spoke. My cold attitude had been nothing short of a rejection.

"Yes, you should."

"I shall try…" then a smile graced his lips. "But I assure you, as long as you are here at the opera, I will fail." He added joking

I too had to smile as his true boyish nature revealed itself.

"Au revior Christine."

I closed the door behind him, sparing myself the pleasure of watching him saunter down the hall and then out of sight. However as soon I heard the click of the lock, my mood changed.

I marched over to the mirror and stood there in silence, afraid to speak for long moment.

"Erik…show yourself!" I called loudly then cursed myself. What if someone heard me? "Please, I know your there." I informed him.

My echo and reflection were my only answer.

"Do you insist on treating me like a child"I muttered. "I know you're hiding there."I challenged.

More silence. I ran my fingers down the length of the mirror from top to bottom, and then I reached around the frame. I traced every curve trying to find a notch or indentation that seemed out of place, but I came away empty. So I reached against the wall, palms pressed flat against the pretty pastel wallpaper. Knowing my luck, this would be the moment Genny returned from her coffee to see me talking to a mirror like a lunatic.

After no response came I left the room and started to make my way down into the passages that lead towards the cellars. My stomach churned at the thought of seeing Erik…and confronting him.

A hand reached out and touched my shoulder and I jumped. I turned and briefly saw Erik, outlined in black as he reached to pull us both into the shadowed part of the hallway. He kept a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence and within few short moments we were in one of the many hidden passages between the walls. I remembered what he had eluded to earlier about the passages and the design of the opera, but it still amazed and frightened me to see that Erik knew them so well. I supposed it was to be expected for a man to maintain the appearance of a ghost.

A ghost that kills.

The horrifying thought crossed my mind and I jerked my shoulder away from his grip. I turned to face him trying to look angry.

"Christine, your face is white. Are you frightened?" he asked. I obviously failed to appear hostile to him.

"No…I mean yes. Yes, I am frightened…"  
><em>Frighten of you<em>. I wanted to say it but the words died on my tongue. He took a few steps towards me and I drew into myself, wrapping my arms around my chest and lowering my head.

"I found out that….Madame… is" I struggled to say the words and admit the reality of it all. "Dead." And I myself felt dead as I spoke the word out loud.

"Christine…" his voice sounded sincere. That genuine kind voice that had guide me through my lessons. The voice that frequently haunted my waking moments as I heard in echo in my head. How could he possess such a voice and do such terrible things?

"A lawyer came to see me, and told me that I was to inherit her estate." I pressed my back against the wall. I should have been seeking the comfort of his embrace. He would have welcomed it, but I dared not. "Do you know why?" I asked my voice shaking.

He inclined his head in a gesture of disinterest. "No…why?" he asked in annoyed tone.

"Because Frederich was suppose to inherit the estate! And they found him dead this morning." I blurted out, my words spilling over each other as they rushed out of me. I raised my voice. "He was murdered!" I shouted.

Erik's fingers were at my mouth in an instant trying to silence me. I turned away. "Erik you said you would never again lie to me. "I reminded him. "I believe despite everything else you are truthful. Please tell me…" I wanted to hear him profess his innocence. Despite everything he had done to me, I wanted to believe he was not capable of such a hideous act. In the face of my fears and discomfort, there was still part of me that cared for him. A part of him I still loved.

"Yes. I killed him." His voice was flat and dull and my churning stomach doubled over at the sound of his confession. My hand flew to my mouth to stop the stream of fluid from exiting. But instead when my fingers touched my face, I found that I was already shedding a river of tears.

The golden eyes beneath the mask blazed in anger as he focused my tears. "You're crying? Oh you don't weep for me, but you will for him!" he said accusingly. "Is that it Christine! How heartless of you…." He added in a mocking tone.

"No!" I cried. "I weep for you. For what you have done!" My hands balled into fists and I held them out in front of me, trembling.

He only scoffed. "How quaint…"

"Murder is a sin Erik! A sin!" I challenged

"Spare me your religious lectures! I learned to drown out such ignorant attempts long ago." His words were like acid. He was terribly angry at me. I had seen his temper flare before, but his body shook in suppressed rage and his eyes burned. I was the same reaction when I had removed his mask.

One of his hands caught mine and I was too upset to shake him off. He brought it beneath his chin, cradling it. "Is it so wrong what I did? I did it for you. I did it to make sure he never had the chance to harm you again." His words were fierce, his temper on the point of boiling over, yet his touch against my skin was so gentle.

"But why…" I stammered.

"Because he deserved it!" His voice was adamant. "You should be thanking me. Can you honestly say you're sorry that he is dead? I did what I had to do so that he wouldn't hurt you or anyone else in that way again. Remember I saw what he did to you."

I felt my back slide against the wall. My legs no longer willing to support my weight.

"Killing him was a small mercy." He added. "I could have done much worst. Believe me I wanted to."

Frederich would never touch me again. I would never have to endure the shame of his eyes or hands upon me. Erik had made certain of that.

"Remember Christine y_ou_ came to me when you ran. _You_ trusted me."

The fingers of the hand he held curled at his words. Erik had professed that everything he did for me he did out of love. He offered to train my voice for nothing because he loved me.

"And _you_ agreed to stay with me."

He abducted me and brought me to his home to keep me out of love.

Silence pasted between us. He never let go of my hand and I in turn did not try to pull it from him.

"Come Christine…let me take _you home_."

And now…he had murdered for me and _all in the name of love._

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry for the delay. Editing is a pain in the butt...Don't mess with Erik!<br>_


	19. Act Two: Chapter Nine

The next morning, I found another offering in my room. A black morning dress of fine silk taffeta was placed on the chair at the foot of my bed. I examined it with little enthusiasm at first until I saw that unlike the other dresses in my wardrobe, this one was brand new. On the floor lay the box and pretty tissue paper from an elegant Paris boutique and unlike the dresses I owned, this had the very latest fashion silhouette with a long train of compactly placed ruffles and a tight fitting skirt that clung to my waist.

I was concerned on how Erik had acquired this most recent gift.

My eyes were red from crying as I examined myself in the mirror. I also still wore my clothes from yesterday and reasoned I had probably fainted from the emotional stress. I barely remember the previous evening or how I had managed to move myself down the passages in the opera cellars. Like Atlas, my concerns and fears felt the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I thought of Raoul and our awkward conversation. I recalled the sweet kisses he foolishly laid on my hand. I was still stunned at his lack of concern for propriety as we spoke. The way he flung out his arms to hold me tightly against him. Despite my protests I had relished the experience of his strong arms around my shoulders and the sensation of my face against the soft velvet lapel of his dress coat.

His confessions of jealously thinly veiled his admittance of his affections for me and I felt weak and unworthy that I could not receive or return such love.

My own confession to Raoul tore at my thoughts. Now only he and Erik knew the truth about Frederich and what he had done to me. My mind kept conjuring up the horrible scene again and again. Even though Frederich was no more, the memories would not fade. And then as if it delighted in tormenting me, my vivid imagination flashed the image of Frederich before me. Frederich, lying on the street in some miserable alley, the blood drained out of him and his body nearly shredded to pieces.

And these terrible thoughts only circled around to bring me to my most consuming fear. The man who left presents in my room. The man who had offered his home to me and I had in my naivety and desperation accepted. A man who had confessed his passionate love for me. A man who had killed for me. Erik waited just outside my door. I was a prisoner in his home, too afraid to upset him and too cowardly to run away.

All the while, I was supposed to be grieving. The woman who was the closet thing I had to a mother was gone. I could reason with myself that I had only had one chance of visiting her and I missed it. I could try and fool myself that I was so frighten of returning home that I did not seek her out again. Maybe she would have gotten better and I would have gotten the chance to visit her.

Perhaps it was really Erik I was afraid of not Frederich. But the truth was I had no one to blame but myself. Erik had willingly let me leave the first time and he surely would have left me visit the hospital to see her. I hadn't. I had stayed away. I had left my fear once again stop me from doing the right thing. Thats why I was trapped in that situation before. Now it had ironically landed me in the predicament I faced now. _Would I learn anything?_

I rubbed at my eyes, noticing how red they appeared. I was tempted to use some of the cosmetics that had been left for me to add some color into my poor tired face.

Erik ever diligent waited for me in the sitting room and escorted me to the ground floor. Our morning passed in silence. He released me once more, confident that I would again return.

When I reached my dressing room door, I could hear a faint sobbing sound coming from inside. I was usually one of the first to arrive at the opera and Genny had a puerperal habit of being always a few minutes late. I turned my key in the lock and opened the door.

Genny lay next to the mirror, crumpled against the wall. Her long blond hair had fallen out of her coiffure and lay in messy heaps of white yellow around her face. Her pretty white face was streamed with tears. Sobs racked her small frame causing her to shake and she brought her fists to her face, jerking them in the air.

"Genny…" I called softly, while my heart quickened its pace.

She stopped mid sob and looked at me, her eyes as red as mine had been that morning. She too wore a black dress similar to mine. I could only assume Raoul had told her the unfortunate news last night and this was the cause for her grief. But I knew that not even the death of Madame could bring such sorrow and terrible tears. It was something else. I leaned over to her level, gently brushing the hair off her face were it stuck to her tear stained cheeks.

"Christine…." She moaned. "You must think I am a terrible person!"

I shook my head. "I do not. Tell me, what has upset you?" I asked as calmly as possible.

"You have just lost someone…so dear to you…." She stuttered trying to regain her composure. "I can't possibly burden you with my regrets."

Genny had always seemed so confident. Even as children I had never seen her driven to a state of weeping as she was now. I walked over to one of the dressers and dipped a cloth into the basin of water. Returning to her side, I saw she had moved from her fetal position and now sat with her back pressed against the wall. I offered her the cloth which she placed on her neck.

"Christine, Raoul told me what happened…" For a moment, I thought that Raoul had confessed everything to his sister, despite what I had made him promise. "I'm so sorry about Madame, but at least….she is in heaven now with…with the angels." At this her voice broke again and she whimpered before she broke into mad sobs.

At this I took hold of her shoulders, feeling them shake beneath my figures. She did not stop crying.

"Genny! What's wrong?" I asked again.

"He has left me!" she shouted. "The Angel has left me. My..._my_ Angel of Music." Her voice sounded like a hiss. "I thought I had done everything to please him, but since the closing night of _Orpheus_, I have heard his voice no more."

I still did not believe in the Angel of Music. But then again, until recently I had not believed in phantoms either. Perhaps who ever had been deceiving Genny had grown tired of their joke and took their leave. I should have been relieved that my friend was no longer under such an influence or deception. But she wept as if she had lost the most precious thing in the world.

So I played along.

"Did he say anything to you?" I asked.

"After my performance, he told me he was pleased with me and that I was destined to replace Carlotta by the end of the season. He promised me this! I have not seen any admirers or suitors. I did as he instructed." She rose and stood in front of the mirror. She would have usually used this opportunity to perfect her appearance as she did with any mirror. She made no move to wipe her face or pin back her tangled hair.

"Even after what happened to us...when we where chased by that...fiend. I still returned to the opera house. I feared for my life but I feared that I would lose my angel more. I have waited by this mirror every day since then, waiting to hear his voice again. But he has remained silent."

At this I nearly jumped to my feet and stood beside her at the mirror.

"The mirror..." I whispered.

She nodded. "Yes he speaks to me through this mirror." Her eyes glanced back to catch mine in the mirror. "I thought I told you that. How else would angels speak to us mortals." she reasoned.

I felt again the familiar sick feeling in my stomach. I knew that there was no real angel, but now I knew who this pretender was. The secret passages between the mirror and the wall. The confession that he had kept a watchful eye over me since my first day at the opera. Once again the pieces fell into place. I cursed my foolish ignorance as if I had failed to solve the simplest of puzzles before me. The Phantom of the Opera, Frederich's murderer and the invisible Angel of Music. They were all the same man.

Had Genny not being leaning back in my arms at that moment for support, I would have fainted myself. I wrapped my arms across her small chest and held her tight, for both our sakes. I bit my lip hard, bidding the sickness and the fear to leave me.

I held her tightly, feeling the overwhelming need to protect her.

* * *

><p>There was a light drizzle as the funeral mass occurred. Thankfully for the few people in attendance, it had stopped before the casket was loaded on the hearse for it's final journey. Madame was to be interned in the cemetery at Montmartre, in the same district where Frederich had been murdered.<p>

Michelle was there, wearing the best dress she had. I had arranged with M. Girard that a portion of my inheritance be left to Michelle so she wouldn't have to seek work for several years. The rest went to Frederich's mother and sister. Michelle insisted walking to the cemetery which was only a mile away from the chapel. I joined her. Even though Raoul protested because of the cold, he finally left his carriage and walked with us. Genny, who was still too distraught and out of sorts took the carriage back to her townhouse and did not come to the burial.

Raoul was persistent until I took his arm and let him lead me down the boulevard behind the hearse. He only offer more condolences and for this I was grateful. No amounts of words could bring my Mamma Valerius back. When we reached the grave site I was stunned to see two identical arrangements of white roses in heavy clay jars propped next to the freshly carved tombstone. There had been no flowers at the chapel or with the hearse. Not many acquaintances had come to the mass and since many were as old as Madame had been, they begged off making the journey to the cemetery. I looked at Raoul in surprise.

"Who could have left these?" I wondered.

Then his eyes glanced away shyly and I knew the answer.

"Raoul..." I whispered. "They are beautiful...I'm very grateful."

He nodded and we watched again in silence as the coffin was lowered into the earth. I leaned my head against Raoul's shoulder in exhaustion and he in turn shuffled his arm so I would be more comfortable. The few well wishers trailed off and the grave diggers stood conspicuously out of sight, waiting to finish their task.

"Thank you for being here." I finally said, lifting my head.

" I needed be here, Christine." he replied. "To pay my respects." His feet shuffled and I found myself carried away as we took a strange stroll through the rows of headstone. Passing the vases with the roses, Raoul reached over and pluck up a long steam with a not yet blooming bud. He handed it to me and I clutched it against my chest.

"I had my parents on this earth for such a short while. In that respect, I suppose we are alike Christine. I looked to the Valerius as a second set of parents. I wasn't there to say goodbye to the Professor or your father. So being here is the least I could do."

I looked out across the cemetery, seeing the skyline of the city beyond the gates. The bold and bright buildings with their windows starting to come to light with candles inside them, contrasted with the empty burial ground. Its' endless rows of headstones stared back at us like blank faces. Th stoic stones reflecting the lost lives of the souls buried beneath them. We stopped to look up at the sky, which was suddenly growing cloudy and dark. I moved away from Raoul and leaned against a large stone statue. I stared up at the figure of an angel, looking down upon the earth. Her serene face matched the loving gesture of her outstretched arms awaiting the souls of mortals.

"Raoul, do you remember the stories of the Angel of Music?" I asked.

"The stories your father told us. Yes I recall them." he took a few steps away, his hands clasped behind his back.

"But do you believe in angels?"

He gave a small laugh. "I suppose so. I like to think I am a good Catholic."

He must have thought I was depressed by my melancholy musing, but I was trying to be serious. "But either way, angels should remain in heaven, don't you think?"

"What is it Christine?" he asked. "Why such talk of angels?" He walked over to where I stood and leaned an elbow against the statue. "You and Genny both are talking too much of angels and ghosts lately."

I clutched his arm tightly in a panic "What has she told you? About ghosts?"

"Nothing...nothing serious. Just silly gossip about an opera ghost she mentions from time to time. But I thought both of you were too sensible for talk like that." he scolded.

"And angels?"

"You know something Christine. I see the same look in your eyes that night after Orpheus...when you seemed reluctant to toast to the Angel of Music. And you speak of it now. It's not like you. Tell me do you believe in the Angel? Or the Ghost?" he demanded.

I pressed my hands against my ears, not wanting to be interrogated. "No, there are no such things as angels or ghosts!" I shouted, my terrified voice disturbing the stillness of the hallowed ground. "But I fear that Genny does. That her blind beliefs will lead her to harm."

At that, Raoul's eyebrows darted up in surprise. "Genny?"

"I cannot say all, but Genny believes in the Angel of Music. She told me she hears him in her dressing room." I explained quickly

"Him? The Angel of Music is a man?"

"Yes!" I breathed sharply. "I had the same reaction as you when she first told me. I thought she was joking but she described to me that this voice, this angel's voice spoke to her in her dressing room. She heard it and spoke to it. And it spoke back." My chest felt tightly as I whispered this information to Raoul. The things Genny swore me to secrecy. I could only help in so many ways. By keeping Erik satisfied, I was keeping him distracted. He wouldn't have the time to play the cruel farce with my best friends.

But Genny needed more protection than I could give her.

"Have you heard this angel Christine? Do you know him?"

A rapid breeze went by us, and the chill air stung at my throat and nose as I spoke. "No." I denied.

"You think it's someone playing a trick on her." He stated.

I nodded. "I think it's worst than that. I think someone is praying on her faith and ignorance. They may only trying to use her trust to gain some sort of advantage." I mused. In truth I knew not what Erik's motives were in this matter.

"Like what? You speak as if you know more…" Raoul prodded. His arm wrapped itself around my waist. He could have pulled me closer but he didn't.

"No, I know nothing more. I just have some horrible feeling about this all. I fear Genny's mind is not well, that her faith in the angel has distorted her perception somehow. I will try and talk to her, but I'm afraid…"

"It seems like you are the one who is afraid." Raoul pointed out. "You're trembling." At this statement, I became painfully aware of my vibrating body against Raoul's open palm.

"There is a company break between the end of this opera and the next one in the spring. For the holidays. Do you think that you could manage to persuade Genny to take some time off? To go away for awhile." I asked.

His arm went from my waist up to my forearm and now he dared to pull me towards him. I let him, having his arms turn me about to face him. The sun was setting, and instead of gracing the earth with its brilliant hues, it only made all around us gray.

"Do you think that would be the best idea?" he asked, raising a figure to my chin.

I nodded. "Perhaps whoever is doing this will tire of his charade if she isn't around. Maybe he will leave her alone."

"Do you think this person could be in love with her? That he is stalking her?"

I gasped. "No, no I don't think so." On that I was certain.

"It will take some strong convincing to get Genny to leave the stage." Raoul said. "Even if only for a few weeks. Perhaps…if you came with us, she might be more open to the idea."

"I cannot. I cannot leave…Paris. Not now." I protested.

He sighed. "It seems to me you're the one in desperate need of a holiday. You've been through so much, and you've tried to bear it all by yourself." He placed his hand against the back of my head. It was large enough that his palm rested against my ear. It sent out the most pleasant warm feeling.

"You don't have to do this alone. You have nearly no one left in this world, except..." he started. He looked around his shoulder cautiously. As if anyone would be watching us.

"You could come stay with me...with us." He corrected himself. "There is enough room in our townhouse. Come live with us. If you are so concerned with Genny, maybe it would be better if you stayed with her. It would be completely sensible. No one would think it would be ..."

"Hush Raoul." I commanded. " Are you listening to yourself? You know that isn't possible." It could have been an ideal situation. To once again taken care of. I could have been very well kept. The de Chagnys had more than enough money. But it was impossible.

"Why not?" His breath caressed my cheek. He was so close. He was always too close.

"Because of this." I whispered. "Because you are always...so close. So quick to offer your help. You're not thinking. Because we both know the real reason...why you are asking this..."

His eyes shut in disappointment. "I know...but I can't help..."

His lips were almost on mine. I ducked out of the way, dropping the rose in my hand. I bent to retrieve it. "Please Raoul...I just need to be alone." I cried. Again I found myself running away from my friend. A friend who openly offered me his hand...and his heart. I was afraid. Just like I had been afraid the night Erik had first offered to give me singing lessons.

I was afraid then that it was too good to be true...and it had been.

I heard Raoul's footsteps tread down the gravel path. "I'll fetch us a cab." He said. With rose in hand, I walked back to Madame's grave. The sun was finally out of the sky, and the dim glow from the street lights was my only source of illumination. In the course of our short walk, the gravediggers had returned and neatly filled the hole.

Glancing around, I saw that I was truly alone. I lifted my skirt, so that the fabric of my undergarments buried themselves in the soft earth, and not the fabric of my dress. My right hand reached out to touch the ground as my eyes focused on the words carved in the granite. Words that had been carved too soon.

"Mamma..." I whispered. I took back every evil thought I had about Frederich. About the horrors I wished for him. The stubborn disappointment I had felt toward Madame for letting him live under her roof. I took them all back. But my penance was meaningless. She couldn't hear it anymore.

"_Requiem aeternam...dona eis Domine...et lux perpaetua...luceat...luceat._" the words of a Requiem mass spilled from my lips involuntary. It was all I could offer now to express my guilt. For not being there, for letting my fears keep me away.

Fear was still keeping my away from the people I loved. It stopped me from returning Raoul's apparent affections for me. It stopped me from admitting my love for Erik.

"_Luceat eis... Exau di, exau di orationem menam..._"

A girl alone in a graveyard at twilight should have been frightened.

Then I heard a song echoing my own, but it was not another voice. Nor was it the sound of the wind blasting between the headstones. It was the sound a violin. I stood and followed the sound. I had tears on my cheeks and the breeze nearly chilled them to my skin. I couldn't see who was playing, but I could hear the sounds of the strings all around me. I placed the white rose on the grave and moved to away.

With the light of day fading with every second, I hunted for the sound of the violin. It continued the requiem that I had started. The cemetery was small enough with only a few rows of headstones. The large angel statue was the tallest structure in the place, besides the plain stone walls that enclosed it. But I walked the length of the cemetery and saw not a soul.

Then the tune changed from the mass to a new one. Strange at first but then I recognized it. _The Resurrection of Lazarus_.

How appropriate that I heard these ghostly chords here, where the dead lay. I had heard my father play it on his violin and more recently, Erik had played it for me in the house by the lake.

_Erik!_

It couldn't be. The heat that rushed to my face thawed my tears and I raced back to the headstone. He had followed me. The violin stilled played on in the same genius skill I knew he was capable of. The comforting notes of the song that should have brought relief to my grief, only struck me with terror. He was here and he had been watching me. What had he seen?

What had he heard?

I was foolish on how easily he had let me leave. I had agree to return to his home and stay with him and yet he without hesitation released me every day to the world above. I could have easily run away, taken a coach out of Paris.

_Stupid girl_. I should have known. He would have stop any escape I had thought of because he was always watching. Even outside the walls of the opera house. My boots skidded to a halt in the dirt by Madame's grave. The stark white petals of the roses in the vases shone like beacons in the stale darkness. I picked up the rose I had left on the ground.

The violin wailed on. I clutched the rose in my hand, feeling its thorns stick me through my gloves. It was not the same one I had left in the soil moments before

It was a red rose in full bloom.


	20. Act Two: Chapter Ten

Despite his protests, I made Raoul take me back to the opera. I lied telling him I had to collect a few things before returning home that night. He was quite adamant about waiting. I even took the measure of digging through my purse and showing him the coins I had, promising him I would hire a cab on my own.

He kissed my hand before bidding me good evening. As before he let his lips linger on my knuckles much longer than was necessary. The carriage drove off and I stood in the street watching it pass around the corner. I realized I still had my purse open and stared down at its contents.

I had been saving my wages. Before the mass, I had arranged to collect my belonging from Madame Vaelrius home. I took my father's violin, my cleanest dress, and a few well-worn books that the Professor had bought for me. M. Girard was kind enough to summon a driver who I instructed to deliver my affects to the dressing room at the opera. I also collected my savings which I had sewed carefully into the corner of my blanket. I scanned it now. It was by no mean a fortune, but there were an ample number of coins as well as a few bills.

The idea of escape was just now starting to disturb my thoughts. My fear and naivety had pushed the idea away, reasoning that it was pointless. That I had no reason to run. But now I knew that I had given myself over to a murderer. A man who stalked my every step; A charlatan, a deceiver.

My kind "maestro" was gone.

There was enough in my purse for the train. Enough to make it to the coast and perhaps on a ship.

My feet worked faster than my brain, turning away from the artist's entrance and down the paved street. I found myself moving in a frantic pace, down the Rue Scribe, calculating how much time I had left before the last train out of town. If I kept a quick enough pace I could be there before nine o'clock. But the stiff structure of my skirt prevented my legs from taking a longer stride and the train of my dress was getting caught in the unpaved stone. I finally realized how stupid I had been to sign away my inheritance. With that amount of money, I could have made a quick escape, and start a new life.

I stepped up on the side walk. The street lamps were out halfway down the street, plunging the side I stood on into almost total darkness. I pressed on, hoping that I was lucky enough to not be followed. Hoping that Erik had returned to the opera well before me and was waiting in the house by the lake.

In one of the doorways I saw a strange shape. I jumped but then realized it was nothing but an arm with a long hand turned upward. I came closer. It was just an unfortunate homeless wretch, trying to find shelter in the doorway. I noticed only the silhouette of his hand and leg as I hurried pass.

He murmured something. I didn't stop even to toss him a coin. My money was far more precious to me now. I came to the part of the street that was pitch black.

"Where are you going?" I heard a voice. Over the click of my boots and the drumming of my heart, I mistook it for the voice of the beggar behind me.

"Where are you going...Christine...?"

In an instant I was flung back against the brick wall. I didn't even have a chance to cry out before fingers closed over my mouth. Another hand snatched my purse away and threw it on the sidewalk, coins spilling into the street.

If only it had just been a common thief. But I was not that fortunate.

Erik's golden eyes glinted in the dark like the eyes of a cat. They had a wicked look about them. He moved his hand away and I stood still as a stone.

"I'll ask again, where are you going?" he said.

I didn't answer. He stepped away from me, releasing his hand. I didn't move a muscle. "You seemed like you were in a great hurry. What could cause a lovely young woman such as yourself to take such a hazardous walk along the streets of Paris at night?" he mused. He bent down and picked up the fallen coins, depositing them back into my purse. There was just enough light from the other side of the street for me to make out his silhouette. His figures moved rapidly over the sidewalk, but his eyes never left me.

"Seems to me you were trying to get away from some thing...or someone. It wouldn't be that odious Vicomte de Chagny now would it?" His voice was like acid, turning causal words into stinging barbs aimed at me.

"No. I don't have to get away from him. He's kind enough to leave me alone when I ask him to. He's a gentleman." I threw my own acid back at him.

"So, I'm not a gentleman?" he asked with a cruel laugh in his throat. He held up my purse and I snatched it back. "I'll take that as a compliment then. I've been called much worst. Your words honor me Christine."

He turned on his heels, and the sound of his long cape slapping at the wind broke the still quiet of the Rue Scribe.

"Since you are out here on this particular side of the opera. I'd like to take this opportunity to show you something." he mused and then held out his hand. Slowly he uncurled his fingers and I saw something black in his palm, but I couldn't tell what it was.

"It's too dark. I can't see it." I gasped. Even though I did not care to see anything he gave to me at the moment.

"Open you hand Christine." I did as he instructed and felt a small object drop into it. My fingers curled around something smooth and cold.

"A key?"

"Yes, let me show you what it opens." he said with delight. He removed a match from his pocket and struck it. My attention turned as he reached out to the wall behind me, placing his hand on one of the bricks. In a swift move he moved the heavy brick out of it mortar and revealed beneath it a small key hole. "Will you do the honors?"

I placed the key in the hole and heard the thump of a lock. Erik stepped forward and pulled at the bricks on the left side. They gave way in his hands for they were not part of a permanent wall, but of a sliding door. He turned and offered his arm to me.

"Shall we?"

I did not take his arm. I stood there staring back at him in anger. He let his arm drop and stepped behind me. Then he moved ahead into the open portal of the door, letting the movement of his body push me forward. His hand deafly plucked the key from my grasp and the stone door shut behind us.

Now I was in true darkness. The light from the match fizzled out. I heard the sound of feet moving away from me.

"Erik, I can't see a thing." I cried suddenly panicking.

"Neither can I, but I know the way Christine." he answered unconcerned. He kept moving ahead.

"Erik please, just light another match?" I begged.

"Pity that was my last one." he bemoaned.

I took a step forward on my own, but the ground beneath my feet was uneven. I tripped over my skirt and nearly fell over myself.

"Take my hand Christine, and you won't have to be afraid of the dark." He instructed. I groped into the darkness until I felt his fingers reached mine. Then I was lead away.

We descended through many steps, all the while in complete darkness. At one point I was guided by Erik to stand in front of him. "Stay close Christine. The path gets very narrow here and I wouldn't want you to fall." He was mocking me. I felt his thin frame press into the folds of my dress. This was punishment because he knew what I had done. He had no doubt seen everything. He knew that I discovered he had been at the cemetery. He must have thought it was great fun to watch me try to escape. I hadn't even made it beyond a block of the opera before he caught me. And I feared I never would. He was too close.

Finally I saw light up ahead and we appeared out of the tight black passage and onto the stone shore of the manmade lake. He only released me to untie the boat and row us to the other side. Once inside, I tried to storm pass him and go straight to my room. But he stopped me, catching me by the hand once more.

"Wait Christine, you forgot your present." he informed me excitingly.

"You mean your rose?" I asked. "No, I saw that. I meant to leave it."

"No, I mean this." he held up the key in front of me. "For you my love. A key to the passage on the Rue Scribe. You only need to follow the tunnel down to the lake. No trapdoors or false passages to trip you up. That way you can leave this house, whenever you like." Those last words were hurled at me like an insult.

I had never in my life wanted to strike anyone. But I felt an animalistic rage burn inside me at that moment, to the point I would have gladly slapped Erik senseless without a second thought. No doubt he would have stopped me so instead I snatched the key and threw it across the room.

"That's what I think of your present! It's worthless!" I shouted. "And this!" My hands flew to the collar of my dress, wanting to rip it off my skin. "And everything else!" I collapsed into an arm chair seething.

Erik, as cool as ever, placed a hand under his chin. "Christine, don't make yourself upset." He scolded.

My brow knit in fury as I looked at him. Everything about Erik was a mystery and due to my own stupid curiosity, I had started to strip away each layer of that mystery. First had been the mystery of his identity, and why a skilled musician would take the time to train an unskilled girl like me. Then I had tried to reason with his madness. Why he had pursued me through the opera, frightening me half to death only to bring me to his home and profess his love for me. He was devoted to me and intent on keeping me with him forever.

I had unmasked him and seen the horror of his face. I still shuddered to think of it now.

I had grappled with all these things, trying to understand what possessed a man to act this way and yet still be kind and gentle towards me.

Then I had discovered more horrible truths, even worse than his unfortunate face. His devotion and obsession with me had driven him to murder. To take another life in the most cruel manner. And though I had returned to him after all this, he felt the need to watch me like hawk stalking his prey. A key that unlocked a door was useless, knowing Erik would only be a few steps behind me. Whenever I opened it.

I bit my lip hard. "What does it matter when I leave? You'd find me. You let me leave this place...but you never leave me." I whispered.

He circled around the chair I sat in. He leaned over the top, letting an arm reach down to brush against my shoulder. I heard his steady breathing above me. A calm presence that belonged to a man who was anything but "steady."

"Exactly so." he stated. "I can't help myself Christine. Once you agree to stay with me, I knew I could never let you go."

I shook my head and the tears came freely into my eyes. I cursed myself for making such a promise.

"Good God..." I moaned moving away from his touch and his breath upon my face. "Why? Why bother?" I cried. "If you were going to do this anyway, why would you even let me go? It wouldn't have been better if you locked me away in my room forever."

"Christine, I have lived my entire life in isolation." he said solemnly "I even know the sick perversion of being locked away in a cage. Lock you away? No, I may be a monster, but I'm not monstrous enough to do that to you. I won't make you suffer like I have. But I must keep an eye on you. I must protect you." he reasoned with me. When I did not look at him he dropped to his knees before me, again assuming the role of the prostrate servant.

"Besides, you deserve to live in the light. At least I allow you that. You are doing so well in rehearsal. Soon all of Paris will hear your voice." He reached up a hand and his long fingers grazed by the tips of my ears "And they will know as I know how it feels to have the voice of an angel grace mortal's ears. By the end of this season, you will be singing the lead role."

The word _angel_ stabbed at me. "Will I? Isn't that what you promised Genny? That she would be the prima donna. Isn't that what the _Angel of Music_ promised her?" my voice grew hush but I drew out the words to make them sound harsh.

He narrowed his eyes at me, displeased with my challenge. "That doesn't matter. That girl's voice is passable at the least, but you have the real talent." his fingers went from my ears to my lips, just touching the corner of my mouth. "You will thrill the patrons on the Opera Populaire with your god given talent Christine...and they will love you for it...just as I love you..."

I pushed my hands into his chest, which was enough to push him back on his heels. "I've had enough of your kind of love!" I screamed and darted pass. He only watched as I ran up the stairs to my room. I hurled one more insult before I slammed the door.

"You're insane!"

* * *

><p>The hard tap of a baton stung at my ears.<p>

"Mademoiselle Daae!"

My mouth opened but nothing came out. I knew the notes, but I forgot the words. I shook my head and waved my hands in front of me. "I'm sorry M. Gabriel, I have forgotten the words." I shamefully admitted

The chorus master glared at me as if I had committed a mortal sin. I would have remembered them if I could. I knew them, perhaps by heart but I had become so distract and frightened.

"Then look at Meircer in the prompter box! That is what he is there for." Gabriel corrected me, the baton in his hand almost flying out of his grip as he waved it. We had been practicing the opera in its entirety and this was now the third run through of the day. I heard a few groans behind me and I turned my attention to M. Mercier, who sat propped within the tiny box at the foot of the stage.

"_Pian, pia in le andro pui..._" he started with a smile, trying his best to not appear annoyed.

"Yes..._presu tempo perso non sara_. On my tip toes I'll go nearer. Thank you monsieur." I offered.

Gabriel gave a long dramatic sigh. "Daae, did you know that Mozart wrote the Marriage of Figaro in six weeks? And yet it seems you can't memorize the lines of only one of the characters in the same amount of time. Why is that?"

I loathed his sarcastic tone. It wasn't that I had memorized my lines. I had another teacher who demanded perfection in my performance well beyond M. Gabriel's standards. Erik had insisted I learn every line of every character, even if I wasn't in the scene at that time. This would have come more easily to a pupil who had spent years in the conservatory learning the librettos of operas like a second language. But not me.

"I have memorized lines monsieur." I protested. "I just was flustered and they slipped my mind. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." he grumbled.

The rehearsal finally came to an end well long after dinner time. My stomach protested the late hour and my feet and knees ached from standing. The company was dismissed but not before M. Gabriel pulled me aside.

"Christine, I hate to do this because it interferes with my Sunday holiday as well as yours, but I must insist you meet me here to practice tomorrow. You will not have your words "slip your mind" again, is that understood?"

"Yes sir." I said speaking at the same time to both of my instructors. I glanced up towards Box Five. No doubt Erik was listening and would demand the same of me that evening, drilling every line into me.

I turned to leave, noticing that Genny had already left the stage. As I turned down the wings to our dressing room, I overheard Carlotta talking to her maid.

"Well it's what I said all along. You can't make something out of nothing..." she intoned. I turned and our eyes met. She had been directing that comment at me.

"Did you have something to say to me, La Diva?' I asked.

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Then say it." My patience had been worn thin.

"I was just confirming what I have thought of you from the beginning. What you're doing may be a great publiticty stunt, but it won't work. I've seen it happen before. You'll work so hard to learn your music, because it will be a task twice as difficult for someone like you than it is to someone like me." she continued, taking out a fan and stalking towards me.

La Carlotta was a large woman, tall and thick and she used her stature to intimidate me. "It will exhaust you and on opening night..." she slapped her fan in against her palm. "You'll choke. You won't have the nerves for it my dear." Her endearments were dripping with sarcasm. "Then at last you'll put these fanciful dreams out of your head and go back to where you belong. Leave opera to the professional. So as I said, you can't make something...out of a nothing."

Then she laughed. She had wanted to hurt me. She wanted to see me cry but I didn't give her the satisfaction.

"You would do well to watch your tongue La Diva." I hissed. "Before you insult me or anyone else for that matter. Others might be listening."

I almost couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was using Erik's watchful presences to my advantage. And I was nearly gloating about it.

My threat failed to move her. "Who is listening then? The Opera Ghost!" and with that she titled her head back and shrieked with laughter.

Her laugh followed me as I stalked away through the wings.

* * *

><p>I returned to the house on the lake through the Rue Scribe, using the key Erik had given me. I was not surprised to see him waiting for me in the sitting room. I wondered to myself how fast he must have run to get down here before I did. To give the false pretense that he had been waiting at home for me all day.<p>

I threw up my hands exhausted as he rose upon my entrance. "Please, I'm hungry and I'm tired. Just..." I licked my lips. "I would just like some food to eat in my room if you'd permit me." After what had happen a few week earlier at the cemetery, I had made an effort to avoid Erik as much as possible even in his own home. I had already made up my mind. I would have none of false freedom Erik offered me. I would simply return to my room and stay there all evening, until I could plan a way to be rid of him. To be rid of all this. I would barricade my door if I had too.

Just like I had done against Frederich.

"I was rather hoping you would join me for supper." he whispered. "I was going to take you out."

I froze at the word 'out' and turned to face him. "What do you mean?" I then noticed on the table, a simple basket with the end of a baguette stick out from its side. "Like a picnic." I asked with a laugh.

He cringed and shook his head. "A picnic in December?" he mused. "No I don't think so and beside I'm not very fond of picnics. Put on your coat Christine and you'll see."

I wasn't in the mood for any games. "Please Erik, I am very tired. Can we not?"

He shook his head. "I had intended this as an apologize. Please put on your coat."

I did as he told me. With the basket under one arm and mine hand in his other; he led me back up the secret entrance of the Rue Scribe. Outside, a handsome coach waited for up. The driver made no notice of our strange entrance and the cold winter wind soon drove me inside the vehicle. The brassier had been turned on full blast and there were a collection of blankets stored in the corner. I pulled one over my lap and removed my hat while Erik stepped in.

Soon we were moving at a slow pace. I noticed that the curtains had been drawn, for obviously reasons and I frowned. Erik must have sensed this and he reached over and pulled aside the curtain, exposing the night visage to me. I looked out, content for the moment to gaze at the stars settling themselves in the night sky.

Erik unpacked the contents of the basket. I saw not only the bread, but a collection of sliced vegetables packed neatly into a linen napkin. He offered them to me.

"Here you said you were hungry." I gratefully placed the contents in my mouth, trying not to stuff myself. I looked closer at the basket to see the content buried deep. There was a bottle of liquor along with two glasses. A box of chocolates and a heavy glass container filled with small red items that I could not identify. I took them out and set them beside me.

The carriage made its way around the streets of Paris. At Erik's command, the driver slowed and I took the time look out the window. The coach was slowly passing by the Louvre, provided us with most excellent nighttime view of the great museum. It was almost romantic.

I heard the clink of glass and turned my attention from the window to Erik. He had opened the bottle and was pouring himself a glass. In his long gracefully fingers, he held the stem of the other glass between his thumb and forefinger. He noticed me.

"Would you care for some Christine?" he asked causally.

"What it is?" I returned his offer with suspicion.

At this he raised the other glass to his lips and took a deliberate drink. He licked his lips in satisfaction. "It's not drugged, if that's your concerned." He poured a small amount of the liquor into the empty glass then refilled his own. "It's brandy." he stated holding the glass out to me.

I took it and raised it to my lips. "Not too much." he cautioned as the warm bittersweet liquid passed my lips. I felt it slide down my throat filling my upper body with warmth.

"I've never had brandy before." I admitted, cradling the glass in-between my fingers. Erik took another drink. I stared down at my glass for a long while. I wasn't sure what to say. Should I thank him for the romantic carriage ride and the food?

"What is the cause for all this?" I asked.

"I told you before Christine. This is an apology. For how I have been treating you lately. If we had more outings like this, perhaps you wouldn't feel the overwhelming need to run away for me." he explained coolly.

"I didn't try to run because of that." I spoke through clenched teeth. "You are driving me away with your dishonesty." I admitted. And it was true. Had Erik had been straightforward before, I would have been more considerate to his...unusual habits of conducting a relationship.

"I try not to make promise I cannot keep..." he took another drink. "But if it means that much to you, I will make an attempt to be more open with you. Ask me anything you like and I will tell you the truth. From now on"

I looked up at him in disbelief. He was certainly in a good mood if he was this open with me. A barrage of questions invaded me at that moment.

"You said that you knew what it was like to be locked in a cage? Is that true?" His fingers tighten over the globe of the glass, to the point he might have broken it with the pressure he released. I saw the lids of his eyes fall, causing the golden light beneath the mask to narrow.

"Did you think was I was lying?" he asked his voice flat and void of emotion.

"No...I was just..." My glass was shaking in my hands. "You seemed so angry that I thought...you were just saying that to frighten me." I knew I had asked the wrong question. He smiled and it terrified me.

Erik leaned over and poured more brandy into my glass. "Here, I think you should have more to drink, Christine. This is going to be an interesting story. You should have refreshment if you are to listen." his voice had that bitter cynical tone in it. I tried to steady my hands to keep the brandy inside my glass. He knocked on the roof and the carriage stalled to a slower pace. Even with the brassier and the blankets filling the carriage with heat, I felt ice cold, waiting for him to speak.

"As you can imagine Christine, my parents weren't exactly thrilled that I was born with this face." he gestured to his mask. "My first and only present from my poor insane mother was a mask, so she wouldn't have to look at me. Her only son with the face of a devil." He took a long drink, draining the glass. "Smartest thing she ever did, I suppose." he mused. I watched his tongue uncurl like a snake's, savoring the remaining liquor left on his thin lips. I calculated how much he had to drink so far.

"Even though I was a stupid child, it didn't take me too long to realize it was better if I stayed out of sight. I would spend most of my days outside, hiding in the woods near our house. Sometime I would spend whole days and nights living outdoors. But the need for warmth and shelter brought me back. Each time I saw the disappointment in my mother's face at my return. She was hoping that I had been killed. So that I would stop turning up. Everyone stayed away from our house. The villagers created their own fantasies about me. That I was a monster and a wild child to boot." A strange laugh rose in his voice. "One time, I think I was ten...it's hard to keep track of your age when no one care to celebrate the anniversary of your birth..." he trailed off. He had been looking out the window as he spoke, but now his attention focused on me.

"You look cold Christine. Have a drink. It will make you feel better" he instructed.

"Erik...you don't have to talk about..." I started.

"You asked me. It would be rude of me to lie to you again, my dear." he pointed out. "But I suppose I should get to the point and make this short. Don't want to spoil this lovely evening." A finger encircled his glass absentmindedly as he spoke. I took a small sip of brandy. It did make me feel warmer.

"I had been away from my home for almost a week. When I returned, my mother made a terrible fuss. She did her best to pretend she was concerned about me. She warned me there were gypsies in the area who would steal little boys away. I reminded her that gypsies don't steal little boys _like me._ I called her some terrible names and left again. I hated her for her false motherly concerned. I was so angry that I became distracted."

He set down his glass in the basket. He opened the box of chocolates and held them out to me. I shook my head. He dropped it then let his hands grasp his knees.

"You see Christine; gypsies do steal children...especially children who look like me. They caught me in the woods with a net. Like an animal. Then I was placed in a cage. A filthy cage..." his voice trailed off. "My mother was right."

"Erik." I gasped. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."

"They put me on display!" he cried, his voice sounded hoarse. "I wasn't just a prisoner; I was a side show attraction. A freak..." he hissed. "I fought at first, but then I realized I wasn't stronger enough to break free, not yet. But I waited, and soon I would become smart enough to earn my freedom."

I dared to move one of my hands up to my face, to cover the fact that I was starting to cry. I had my answer now. I knew what had caused Erik to become so mad and deranged. What had driven him to abide in the cellars of the opera.

He had been made into a monster. I thought of Erik, young and helpless. His spirit crushed by the iron bars around him. His torment at seeing all those mad faces staring at him. Laughing at him. Human faces. Human beings who behaved so cruelly to one of their own. Because he did not have a face like them.

The tips of Erik fingers touch the back of my palm. I stole a glance up to see him staring intently.

"Don't cry Christine." The scent of brandy filled my nostrils.

"Please...Erik. I want to go home..." I begged.

"Yes I suppose I've ruined the evening. I'm sorry."

I was the one who needed to feel remorse. I had pried. I waved my hand in front of my face as if I could banish the tears and the fumes in one motion.

"You haven't even tried the fruit I brought." Erik pointed out, his gaze falling to the container "You should have some. They will bring some color back to your face."

I twisted the top open, grateful for a distraction. I poured out a handful of the small red seeds into my palm. Their chilled texture felt alive against my skin.

"They are cold..." I noted.

"Almost frozen actually. I find its the best way to enjoy one." He reached forward to point at them. "They go very well with brandy."

I put one in my mouth, sucking on it until it thawed between my lips. A burst of tart juice touched my tongue and a hard kernel still remained.

"Do I swallow them?" I asked my mouth awkwardly clenching the seed.

Erik shook his head and produced a napkin from the basket. "No you spit them out." he explained handing me the napkin. I did as he instructed.

"Not very ladylike of me to spit." I added. My lips were hungry for more and I slid them into my mouth in small but greedy handfuls. The carriage had quickened once again and I hope we were returning to the opera. I noticed Erik still looking at me and I held out my hand to him; a few seeds resting on it.

"Would you like one?" I asked for he had spoken fondly of them.

Without hesitation, he leaned his head over my hand. In a few seconds, his lips were touching the skin of my palm. They slowly closed over one of the seeds bringing it into his mouth. The sensation of the cold fruit and his warm lips against my skin was intense and sensual. His lips lingered there for a few more seconds before pulling away. His eyes were closed as I watched him move his lips and finally roll the seed off his tongue.

With a small laugh, he reached to remove the seed and toss it aside. "Forgive me. That was quite wicked of me." he admitted. I didn't response. I was still stunned by what he had done...and how much I had enjoyed it.

"I saw that young vicomte of yours slobbering kisses over your hand. Without asking you permission. I'm afraid I became a bit jealous of him."

A few seeds still remained. The sudden surge of heat on in my hand thawing them.

"Erik, what is this fruit?" I asked.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? It's a pomegranate...pomegranate seeds."

I swallowed hard and my hand shifted. While I had never tasted a pomegranate, I knew about the fruit. Persephone had eaten pomegranate seeds in the underworld. Hades had tempted her with them, and like Eve and the apple, it had sealed her fate.

"Do you know that a pomegranate is often viewed as a fruit of fertility and beauty? And yet some insist on labeling it the fruit of the dead." Erik lectured me, reading my thoughts. "Some say it only took four pomegranate seeds to tie Persephone to Hades, other say six."

I lost my appetite.

"Tell me Christine, how many have you had so far?"


	21. Act Two: Chapter Eleven

My chest felt tight. I could barely breathe

It was not just because of my nerves, all though there weren't improving the situation.

After weeks of rehearsal it was finally opening night.

I had just put the final layer of my costume on a few moments ago and I was already feeling the sweat gather at the back of my neck. I looked myself over in the mirror and stole a glance at Genny who had just put the finishing touches on her dress.

Susanna was a servant and her costume was light and simple. I could tell just by how her skirts moved that they were made of fine linen. She wore a stomacher made with a charming green floral pattern. The sleeves of her gown were gathered at two points before they flowed down her elbows like wings. It looked much more comfortable than the wool waistcoat that itched at my skin. I envied her.

The designer for Figaro had bluntly told me my chest had to be bounded, saying he could see my breasts from the back row. Genny had laughed off my embarrassment. She agreed to help bind my breasts down with cloth, before then tighten a corset around all of it. Then it was more layers, shirt, waistcoat, cravat, breeches and so forth.

"Christine, you do make a handsome looking boy." Genny pointed out. She picked up a hand mirror, adjusting the pins that strapped her wig to her hair. I leaned against one of the chairs, trying to get use to wearing pants for the first time.

I knew all my lines, thanks to the double drilling from M. Gabriel during the day and Erik at night. I had the encouragement and support of most of my fellow cast members. Yet I still felt nervous. The realization of this event finally dawned on me when I saw the playbills for the performance an hour ago. My name was scrolled in elegant lettering at the bottom of the cast list.

_Introducing Mlle. Christine Daae as Cherubino_

The lettering was almost as big as the one that announced La Carlotta at the top of the playbill. All of the patrons' attention would be drawn to this fact and expect something great of me.

Erik believed in my talents. Raoul and Genny did as well. But outside in the auditorium sat the elite of Paris society ready to judge for themselves. An army of critics.

Genny casted a concern glance at me. "Christine, your face...it's white. You're not ill are you?" she asked then pointed with a finger downward. "Sit down right now." I did. "Are you that nervous? You look like you might faint."

I shook my head. "If I faint tonight on that stage, it will be because of this costume not my nerves." I sighed and looked at my friend, finally powdered and adorned...and perfect.

"You look beautiful." I said.

She smiled sweetly and reached to touch my face. "And once you get some color back into your cheeks you will be too, Christine. And you are going to be wonderful tonight." she assured me.

"I hope so. Is Raoul here?"

"Of course! He wouldn't miss this for the world. And Philippe came too, even though he's seen this opera already. They both are excited to hear you sing."

"They aren't the only ones..." my voice dropped as I glanced at the playbill on the table. "Why did they feel the need to put that there?" I asked referring to my 'announcement'

"I can hear the audience from back here. It must be a full house."

"Usually is on opening night." She laughed. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. This is a compliment." She leaned over the table. "From what Camille tells me, M. Moncharmin is quite taken with your talent and personally wanted to promote your debut." she explained with a wink

My eyes widened as I felt my chest squeeze me tighter. "Great. Am I suppose to have a poster with my name plastered on the side of the building as well?"

"Sing tonight like you have been and I'm sure you'll have your poster by tomorrow." she laughed trying to lift my spirits. "What are you so afraid of Christine?"

I pushed my fingers into my hair. "Of failing. I'm afraid the moment I open my mouth I'll be booed off the stage."

"Ha, no one is going to boo you. These are cultured people."

"I know. I shouldn't be so terrified." I sighed. "The more I think about it..."

She put a finger to my lips. I felt a bead of sweat run down from my temple across my cheek. "Don't be afraid to be nervous. It's natural. But you have no reason to be afraid of failing." she said her voice now uncommonly serious. "You made it this far. You are beyond failing, Christine Daae."

"Curtain in five!" came a call from the door. I realized in annoyance that in running my fingers in my hair, I had ruined part of the styling and raced to put the loose strands back in place. Genny stood and grabbed her bonnet from the table.

"Have faith Christine." she started. "It is like I told you before. You were destined for this. The Angel of Music told me." I stopped my fussing and dropped my hands. I was still uncertain about how much Erik had said to Genny. How much he had misled her. All this was no coincidence to her; it was fate.

"Genny..." I bit my lip trying to think of what to tell her in our last few minutes before the curtain. "Please...try to not be so concerned about the Angel. If you trust in my talents, you must trust in your own. And know that your brothers and friends have faith in you."

She looked at me as if I had spoke blasphemy. "Perhaps with all that adoration..." I continued. "There is no need for the Angel." She looked away from me, her mouth hanging open. I hope that she realized the truth in my words.

"Places!"

"Thank you, Christine." she said softly. Then she forced a smile on her face. She jumped over to the door, pulling at the ribbons on her bonnet. Her mood had completely shifted. She was no longer Genevieve. She was Susanna

"See you on stage...Cherubino."

* * *

><p>The first act went as well as I could hope for. My entrance went smoothly and I was delighted to hear the sound of polite applause as I finished my first aria. I moved quickly to my next lines, cutting the applause short. After the first intermission, I changed from my page boy costume to my uniform. This was too made out of wool and I now had to contend with thick boots and a hat while trying to maneuver my way through the wings.<p>

The curtain rose and the auditorium burst into thunderous applause, clashing with the somber opening lines of the score. Carlotta belted out the first aria destroying the mood of the piece, and then she stopped and bowed towards the audience. My entrance came soon after that. Cherbunio once more stepped into the light, feeling depressed at his current situation. But I was anything but. My heart was racing and I could feel the throbbing tension through my body, from my fingertips down to the heels of my boots.

I was out of place among the diva's adoring fans

"Today I'm not in voice, but if Madame desires..." I sang and pulled of my hat bowing low to Carlotta. When our faces met, she flashed me an unnaturally large grin.

The chords of the guitar sounded.

"You know the answer, you hold the key..."

A loud rip echoed over my soft notes, followed by laughter from the right of the house. I licked my lips ignoring it and moving on.

"Love's tender secret..." At this I was greeted with more laughter and then a din of conversation sprung up on the other side of the house. I glanced and saw a group of women chuckling behind their fans. They were close enough that I could see them even though the footlight practically blinded me.

"Share it with me. Ladies, I beg you share it with me..." The last line felt more like a pled to the distributive women in the crowd. At the rest the noise only grew louder. I heard other patrons in the dark trying to quite the others, but their hush noises and protests only added to the sound. I heard another rip, another laugh...

"This new sensation I under go..."My voice grew quieter when I should have been singing louder. Perhaps I was only imaging it. Then I heard a distinct hiss followed by a high female voice making a jeering noise.

Then the music stopped. Other voices were calling out now followed by other trying to silence them. The words left me. In that moment time stop and all music fled from me. I wasn't even sure if the orchestra was still playing. I could only hear the discontented cackle that was rising in the stalls. I turned my head towards the grand tier, already feeling more sweat pour from my forehead.

I saw him, even in the low light. He stood straight up in his seat, not caring if anyone noticed him. His opera cloak moved about him like a bird's wings. I saw him lean forward and grip the edge of the box, exposing his gloved fingers.

"_Sing Christine..._" In that dazed moment, I was certain that he was speaking right in my ear. It was like the first time he spoke to me. That night on the empty stage when he voiced sounded from behind me while he was still hidden in shadow.

"Sing Christine!" The hushed command grew louder and then I recognized it was not Erik's voice. I turned to see Genny looking at me. Her eyes were wide with anger and she clutched the prop guitar tightly to her chest. Beside her, Carlotta was laughing.

The orchestra had stopped. I could hear the rap of a baton, but I concentrated on Genny, her whispers rising above the noise.

"Don't listen...just sing." she pleaded.

I closed my eyes. I only had moments before the laughter would drive me from the stage forever. I remembered Carlotta's face laughing and her harsh words. But then I remembered Erik's words.

_But it is enough for now that you sing for me...always and only for me._

"It is so different from all I know." I focused all my excited and enraged passion into the notes and let them ring out over the auditorium. Just as I felt everything stop moments before, I was now in a state of mind in which I only heard my voice. The sound of it dominated my entire being and pushed me forward with a courage I had not possessed before.

"Filled with excitement walking on air. First I am happy..." I ignored all of my stage directions. I was suppose to stand still and address Carlotta while she lounged in her bed. Instead I stepped in front of the bed, crossing my feet one over the other. I closed my eyes and placed my hand over my heart.

"Not for a moment am I the same..." I crossed over to Genny, continuing the aria. I sung my next lines to her, smiling as they speed up their pace. I could now hear the familiar strains of the violins accompany me. Genny's face brightened as I sang. Her smile stretched wide across her face.

"I can't stop sighing hard as I try and then I tremble not knowing why. From this dilemma I find no peace, and yet I want it never to cease."

Then I moved forward off to stage left. I turned my head up to the Grand Tier. My face was pointed towards the stall, but I allowed my eyes to lift upwards to my Maestro. The music possessed me.

"You know the answer, you hold the key. Love's tender secret..."

I felt the air rush pass my frantically beating heart. It sprung from my throat and then in again through my nose. I almost lost the beat of the music. The rapid pace in which my heart was pounding threatened to fill my ears. I stretched my hand outwards. Right then, we were the only two people in that entire auditorium. I was pouring my heart out to my teacher.

This was it. This is what Erik and Genny had been talking about. This sublime moment, the glorious feeling that filled me. All doubts and self pity left me as I let my voice soar effortlessly around the words of the love song. This is where I belonged. The heavy tension in my body fled.

"Share it with me..."

The last ritnello sounded and I bounded across the stage toward the foot of the bed. As they last notes from the pit trilled, I once again bowed low to Carlotta. Cherubino was humble, but I was not. Not anymore.

The house burst with deafening applause. Carlotta's face was frozen in disbelief. It was my turn to smile.

I kept my gaze locked with hers until the applause _finally died_ down.

* * *

><p>I pushed another glass of champagne away from under my nose.<p>

"We must celebrate!" exclaimed Camille, who had already had two glasses. The dressing room was packed with people, more than I could ever imagine fitting in such a small space.

"No." I protested. "None for me. Champagne makes me light headed." I pointed out for the third time. Camille only took a sip and then started to pass the glass around to the half dozen ballerinas leaning against the walls. They each took a sip, giggling and chatting. They all wore ball gowns cut short at the ankle from the wedding dance and the volume of their skirts made it difficult to pass through. Genny was leaning against the door frame, grabbing the attention of each person who passed by.

There had been a standing ovation at the end of the performance. Genny had grabbed my hand and pulled me along as she took her final bow. A thousand voiced cried "Bravo!" when she raised our hands up in triumph still clasped together. I took another uncertain bow towards the house, but my eyes lifted to look at a certain box on the grand tier.

It had been empty.

I stood up feeling the surge of the tiny crowd gathering around the table. I didn't even have enough time to get changed before the dressing room was barraged with well wishers. Stagehands had been darting in and out, leaving bouquets leaning against the dressers and wall due to the lack of space. I found an empty space against the mirror. I could feel that the back of my coat was wet from sweat and my neck was still dripping. I reached to untie my hair. It had been styled into the shape of a page boy wig, with two still curls at the sides. It caressed the back of my neck, becoming wet at the tips.

"Christine…" I heard a distinctive whisper in my ear. My hands froze in mid air until I determined with a peculiar sense of calm who had been calling to me.

"Are you very tired Christine?" Erik asked from behind the mirror.

I looked around and noticed in that moment no one had turned their attention to me. They were far too busy enjoying themselves.

"Yes, I am exhausted." I replied.

"Then send them away Christine…" he instructed.

I bit my lip and almost spoke out loud "How?" It was already time for me to trade my existence in the light to return to that other dark world I inhabited. Before I could even try to think of an excuse to be alone, I needed to get out of my costume. I needed water. There was not a glass of water to be had in the room. Only bottles of champagne. I tiptoed forward trying not to step on any feet. I was reaching for the basin of leftover wash water on one of the dresser. I would first cool my boiling forehead and then search out a drink. If I was clever enough I could sneak pass the crowd.

My clumsy boots became intertwined with a loose lace from a ballerina's shoe. By the time I felt the tug against my foot, it was too late. I fell down, my hands acting quick enough to stop my chin from colliding with the floor. The room erupted into sharp gasps and then fits of laughter.

"Christine!" Genny rushed to my side. "Are you all right?" I could only nod with embarrassment. I wasn't hurt. She set her scornful gaze on the members of the corps de ballet. "Out then! All of you." She demanded. She snatched the glass of champagne from Camille. With more giggles and sighs the crowded room slowly empty. Genny helped me to my feet and sat me in a chair.

"I'm fine. I just slipped." I muttered.

"You're face is all red." She noted before moving to the dresser. "You should take those boots off young soldier."

I tugged off my boots and tossed them under the table. Genny returned with one of her handkerchiefs soaked with water. I gratefully took it from her.

" You were as white as a sheet before you went onstage and now your cheeks are as red as a rose. Singing is exhausting work, but you did it." She smiled at me. "And you were brilliant tonight Christine. I can't believe that all actually happened tonight. I predict by tomorrow night, the entire run will be sold out."

I should have been gabbing and gossiping with my friends, but I only sat there mute and worn out. I worried what the next day would bring. I knew I would get an earful from Carlotta and perhaps the mangers as well. Genny noticed my silence and leaned over, resting a hand against my cheek.  
>"Poor thing. You really are done in." She remarked. "You should been in bed. I'll see that you get home." She removed her wig and placed it on her vanity. "Shall I go fetch Raoul for you? He could give you a ride to your home." She offered.<p>

I smiled. "Yes I would like that." And while it was an excuse to get her to leave, I really meant what I said. I did want to see Raoul. Just briefly to express my excitement with my good friend.

She removed a few more hair pins, letting her own hair fall back into place. It too was matted with sweat like mine. She went for the door. "Don't spend another moment in that hot costume. You get changed and I'll come right back."

"Genny…" I started. She paused before she exited, focusing on me. "Thank you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have gotten through tonight. Not without your encouragement."

She blushed. "Well, it's like you told me before the curtain. We must have faith in our friends."She leaned down and two my two clasped hands in hers. Quickly she bowed her hand and laid a kiss on the top of my knuckles. Then she hurried away, closing the door behind her.

My own words came back at me. I was a hypocrite. I told my friend to have faith in me, when I was lying to keep her way. Her and Raoul. I moved the handkerchief down my neck and whipped the drops of water from my forehead.

"You weren't in your box at the curtain call. I looked for you, but you weren't there." I spoke out loud. Raoul was there. I saw him standing in his box. He was shouting and clapping in a very boisterous manner.

"I wasn't there, but I was near. I am always near to you Christine." Came Erik's reply. I heard a slight creak and then the stuffy room was suddenly invaded by a blast of cold.

"Mlle. De Changy was correct in her concern. You should go home. You should rest. You are exhausted."

"I am…dead. Tonight I gave you my soul." I turned to face the mirror. Erik stood in the secret opening. He was clad in splendid dress attire, with a tail coat and a long opera cape.

"That was ingenious of you Christine." He commented dryly.

"I didn't fall on purpose." I admitted.

"I wasn't speaking of that." His eyes shifted under the mask. They lowered themselves, focusing on the ground. "You may change, if you wish." I moved over to the vanity and picked up a pair of slippers I had left on a footstool. My feet ached from the heavy boots. I moved to slip off my coat.

There was a knock at the door. "Christine."

I couldn't help myself. "Raoul!" I whispered in surprise. He had arrived so quickly.

In an instant Erik was at my side. One hand curled tightly around my wrist. "Silence." He hissed. "Say nothing." Another set of knocks echoed throughout the room.

"Christine? May I come in?"

I tried to stop to at least put on my shoes, but Erik pulled me up in his arms as if I weighed no more than a piece of paper. This close to him, I saw his yellow eyes glare at the door and his lip curl into a snarl. My free hand still hung tightly to my slippers. Erik carried me through the mirror and beyond the walls as knocking faded into the distance.

* * *

><p>I was silent throughout our descent. I could have protested but I did not have the strength. Erik insisted on carrying me down the cellars and across the threshold to his home. I felt awkward in my bare feet and my page boy costume, which despite its warmth did not completely protect me from the chill of the opera cellars.<p>

He opened the door to the house on the lake and stepped inside. Erik used candles sparsely in his home, leaving it fairy dark. But now the room was glowing with the light of many candles and it blinded me.

There were flowers everywhere. There must have been at least a thousand bloom scattered about the room. There were grand bouquets of roses, baskets filled with lilies, tulips. Vases I had never seen before, sat on every end table and even on around the organ console, bursting with flowers. I surveyed the scene in disbelief.

"All for you Christine." Erik whispered. "This night is yours." He reached out a hand to touch my shoulder forcing me to slowly turn and face him.

"They are so beautiful. I'm stunned Erik. I really don't deserve all this."

"But you do Christine. You deserve it all and more"

I bit my lip. "Did I really do well tonight?" I asked feeling a tinge of selfish pride. He pulled his gloves off his hands watching me. Then he placed a finger gently over my heart.

"Your training has paid off. Tonight you sang from here. You felt the music from here." He pressed against my chest for emphasizes. I could feel the pulse from his fingertips. It almost echoed my own. "The angels wept tonight." He whispered. Then his hand moved from my chest to my wrist, bring my palm up to his face. Tenderly, he placed a soft kiss into my own palm. "I'm at your command tonight Christine. I will fulfill any wish you have. Would you like something to drink now? Champagne?"

I shook my head. "No I would like to get out of these clothes first. Then perhaps something to drink." I absentmindedly started to shrug off my jacket. Then I realized how brazen my previous comment had sounded. My face went scarlet as I blushed.

Erik smiled. "I understand. Perhaps some wine and maybe a little supper. It will help you sleep."

I turned away and padded lightly up the steps to my room. I opened to door to see it was also bathed in candle light. On my bed was another bouquet of flowers. This one contained several dozen roses ranging from shades of pale yellow to faint peach. Intermingled among the blooms were small delicate white flowers that had the appearance of lace. I leaned down and pressed my cheek against them savoring their scent. For a moment, I forgot about where I was and how I had happened to end up here. I enjoyed Erik's gift for these were the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen.

With relief I toss my jacket aside and undid the many buttons of my waistcoat. Once that was removed, I loosen the silk cravat and folded it before setting it on my dresser. My relief vanished after I pulled my shirt over my head and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I placed a hand over my bound chest and mumbled in frustration. I reached both my arms high above my head and down towards the center of my back. I had been concentrating so hard on my performance and everything else that had happen that I had barely noticed the discomfort in my chest. Until now. My fingers strained to find the end cloth. I could feel the fasteners of my corset beneath the cloth. I stretched and clawed for a few more minutes until the blood had rushed from my shoulder to my hands. My arms felt numb and I stopped trying.

Unlike my usual corset, this one laced in the back. It would be impossible to get it off without assistance. I bit my lip as I reached to put my jacket back over my shoulders. There was only one other option. I left my room and came back down the stairs. Erik was standing in his kitchen, pouring a golden glass bottle of wine. He turned with a glass already in hand. He reached forward to offer it to me and paused as he got a good look at me.

"Erik, I need you help….please."

"Is something wrong?" he asked a note of concern in his voice. I bit my lip again and then slowly turned my back to him. The jacket started to slip down but in my sudden sense of modesty, I clutched it tightly in my hands.

"Could you please…I've had to have my chest bound and I…" My voice was barely above a whisper. "I can't get it undone by myself." There was a silence between us. My back was still turned and I thought my request had shocked Erik enough to cause him to retreat. Then I heard his footsteps coming closer. A stinging hot blush rose to my cheeks. In truth I wasn't afraid of having Erik touch me. I was more afraid of my reaction when he did touch me.

His hand reached up toward the collar of the jacket, slowly tugging at it with just one finger. I relaxed my grip enough to have the sleeve slink down my bare arms. Soon my back was exposed and I suddenly felt chilled. He pressed his fingertips against my back. They were cold.

I shuddered remembering he had taken his gloves off. His flesh was now in direct contact with mine. I wanted to push my jacket back up and cover myself.

"_Mon Dieu_…" he whispered.

I felt his fingers trail down my back and spread against my bindings. He worked one underneath the cloth, tugging the end free. But then he paused.

"You sang tonight…and your chest, you voice…was bound like that." He noted. I nodded, not sure of what he was hinting at. I felt the cloth fall down towards my legs grazing my underarms.

"And yet you sang so beautifully, so magnificent while you were confined."

His hands deftly started to unravel the cloth. His arms were long enough that they stretched around and in front of me. He didn't touch any other part of me as he freed me from my bindings.

"You are incredible, Christine Daae." He complemented. He had leaned closer and I could feel the end of his chin brushing into my hair. "Brava."

The top lace on my corset became loose. I snapped out of my hazy delirium and stiffen my body. I was suddenly aware of how much I was exposed. I shivered but it was not because I felt cold. The breath from Erik's mouth grazed the ends of my hair, brushing them against my back. The rhythm of his breathing grew faster till it was almost a pant.

Swiftly he pressed a hand above my breastbone. I jerked almost falling back into his arms. I was afraid to move until I looked down and saw what he was doing. In his hand he clutched the end of the cloth and now he was holding it just inches away from my skin. I reached up my hand to take it from him which seemed a relief to us both.

"Perhaps you should just retire. You said you were tired." Erik whispered.

My exhaustion had fled me. I was now extremely alert. Erik did not tear me away from my friends' company only to send me away. Not like this. Not after what he had said. Meticulously he reached back and pulled my jacket up over my shoulders once more, only using a finger. I turned around face to him. His eyes instantly darted down at my chest then away. He grimaced and turned his head.

"Go to your room Christine." His whisper was harsher.

Without looking, he reached over his hand to grasp the folds of my coat and pull them tightly across my chest. I put my hands over his as he held the fabric in a tight grip. His hands despite their strong appearance trembled under mine.

"I'm not tired." I stated.

He groaned in frustration. "It would be best for both of us…"

"I don't want to leave. You promised me. Tonight is what I choose. I don't want to go to bed. I want you." I inhaled sharply realizing what I had said. "I want to stay here, with you." I corrected.

His eyes meet mine. The lids rested halfway down his pupils, veiling his amber gaze.

"Christine…." His other hand reached up to touch the left side of my face. I gave a small gasp as I realized how smooth his fingertips felt against my cheek. He moved his head forward then stopped with a jerk; a slight hesitation. Then his head was down again and his lips were on mine.

I didn't pull away and Erik didn't stop me. His other hand broke free from under my hands and slowly made its way up my neck and finally to my cheek. He applied only the slightest pressure on my face. I could sense his movements were not done in an attempt to be sensual. They were out of timidity for his fingers shook. His lips only rested on mine and they too quivered.

They were warm and soft. I was enfolded in his presence and scent. My nostrils were filled with the aroma of his cologne and there was something else in the air around us. Something sweet I could not identify. His mouth open slightly and then expanded to cover my lips completely. I felt my whole body go tight and my legs grow restless. I didn't even hear him breathing. I didn't hear myself. No breath, no pulse.

It was if everything had stopped and it felt wonderful.

I stood up on tip toes, forcing both of us up. Erik seemed to lift me by just holding my face as I returned the gentle kiss he had given me. I pushed against him, my lips tight for a moment. Then I relaxed and opened my mouth. Erik accepted my gesture and moved his tongue across my lips and into the corners of my mouth. The sweet smell was the wine he had and I relished tasting it on his lips. Even on my raised feet I couldn't reached to touch his face. So I reached around his back letting my fingers crawl like spiders up towards his neck.

_God what was I doing?_

We broke apart. Erik let go of my face. It felt like he had dropped me from the second story as I fell back against my clumsy feet, the wind stolen from my lungs.

Erik's eyes were shut and he held out his hands in front of him defensively. "You shouldn't have let me touch you!" he gasped. I looked at him stunned and noticed his fingers were still trembling.

"Erik I trust you. It's why I asked..." I tried to explain.

He cut me off with a sharp laugh. "You trust me. Yes Christine, you trusted me… and look what I've done to you!" He gave a wide sweep of his hand gesturing to the whole space. His words we clipped and blunt and the tone of his voice made it sound as if it were painful for him to speak.

I dared to step forward. I had gone from being afraid of his presence to practically begging for his touch. If I had been repulsed by his kiss, I would have thrown him off without hesitation. He wouldn't have stopped me. But I returned his affection and now he was casting me away.

_You know the answers, you hold the key_.

"You gave me my voice." I pleaded. "You offered me your talent, your skills, your protection and your love. You gave me all this without any expectation from me to give you anything in return. And now you wish to turn me away. Why?"

_Love's tender secrets, share them me._

"I did as you asked! Tonight I sang for you. Tonight I gave you my soul..."

"I shouldn't have touched you." He muttered. "I shouldn't have kissed you. Never let me do it again." His hands shook faster at a fierce pace. "Please Christine, go to your room and forget all this..."

It was my turn to cut him off. "No. You cannot order me. I'm not a child and I am not your wife." I was again filled with instant regret at my choice of words. So much that I covered my mouth.

That had gotten his attention. He stared at me with a look of confused hope. I thought back to what I had said earlier. About all the things Erik had given to me. I would not be celebrating my debut performance in the grand opera if it was not for him. He had given me so much and at the same time he had taken things away from me too. In exchange for his protection I lost my sense of freedom. In exchange for his honesty I had lost my sense of innocence and knew him for what he was. For my fame I had given him my soul. Still I felt the good outweighed the bad...only just enough.

"Very well. I'll submit to your wishes." he sighed. He handed me the extra glass and turned to the stairs, walking under them. He was going to his room. A panic seized my chest.

"Stay with me please." I cried.

"I cannot."

I rushed after him. My fingers just grasped his coat before he pulled away. He turned his head only slightly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "If I stay here with you a moment longer, I will be endangering your virtue." his stated in a husky whisper. "On that you can be certain."

"I don't care!" I shouted recklessly. Our eyes both widen simultaneously at my outburst. Erik made a low noise like a growl.

"You will destroy me...Christine..." he said. Then before I had any time to react, he stepped into his room and quickly slammed the door . I staggered back into the sitting room, falling to my knees. A few of the flowers had lost their petals and were scattered on various parts of the floor. I brought my hands together. They were shaking as furiously as Erik's had been.

_Erik_

Erik kissed me and I kissed him back. He tried to restrain himself and I pursued him. With all that I knew, all that I had gone through...all he had put me through and I had perused him.

"God..." I whispered.

_I loved him._

I sat alone in the room with this terrible thought running through my head and nothing to bring me comfort in it, except for magnificent and stupid flowers.

* * *

><p>AN: SEXUAL TENSION!

That was the only note I left for myself when I was outlining this chapter.

Sorry against for the long delay and another long too chapter. I wish I could have spent more time developing more scenes and situation before we got to the gala night...but then we would be here forever. And there is so much to come. We still have another act to go. Better for us all if I sped thing up a bit:)

Thanks to all the reviewers and readers. It makes my day to see another notice in my inbox of my story being added to readers' favorite's lists. Thanks you thank you.


	22. Act Two: Chapter Twelve

Sleep eventually came to me. Only after hours of sobbing into my pillow. I took one of the roses from the vase and pressed its soft petals to my cheek, crushing it. When I finally woke the next morning the petals were scattered about my pillowcase and I found that I had clutched the stem so tightly that the thorns had bruised part of my palm.

I dressed and made my way out of my room. After examining the mantel clock, I noted that Erik was not about. It was late in the morning. I crossed to the main doors and looked out upon the superficial lake shore. The water was glassy smooth and the simple boat remained tethered to our side. I wanted to leave. Not because I didn't want to be here with Erik. I wanted to be with people. Erik seemed determine to be distance even though we lived together.

I pressed my lips together remembering the kiss from last night. I should have withdrawn from him. For weeks he had treaded lightly in my presence. It was different from when he first brought me to his home. He had proclaimed his love for me through his words. But then there was his other particular ways of expressing his affections. Through his power and extortion as the Opera Ghost. I didn't want that sort of love. I didn't want position, power or even lavish gifts.

Not when he could win me over with a kiss.

I went over to the door underneath the stairs; the door to Erik's room. I thought of when he pulled me into his chambers before. I shuddered to think of the coffin he used as his bed. I imagined him sleeping in there alone and in self afflicted solitude. I wanted him out of there.

I knocked three times. "Erik? Erik if you are in there, please come out." I pleaded. I waited by the door for a few moments and heard no movement from the other side. I pulled on the handle and finding it locked I knocked again. "Erik, please come out. I want to talk..." My voice died in my throat and I abandoned my post at the door.

Over the next hour I amused myself in a slow, boring fashion. I took my time making a pot of tea and setting out the simple crockery on a tray. In a small act of hopefulness I set out an extra cup and left it out on the table. I sat at the piano bench and slowly sipped my tea. I nested the warm cup between my hands savoring its heat. My eyes traveled across the room taking stock of the multitude of flowers. I had seen flowers like this in the shops around Paris and in the bouquets left for Genny in her dressing room. A white woven basket filled with white lilies tied with lavender ribbon. Bright arrangements of spring flowers that seemed out of place in November. There were also plenty of roses in different shades.

They all seemed to be saying the same thing. _Can you love me?_

Erik had my answer. I confessed my feelings for him once and despite my trials they did not change. I lived with a murder. I lived with a man obsessed. I had thought it was nothing more than pity and perhaps it was. But it was a pity so strong that I did not want to leave him.

In a way I was still afraid to leave him. I knew it would drive him into madness. If I dared to leave, he would find me and call me back to him. I would be helpless to resist. Annoyed I folded my hands across the piano and rested my chin on top of the black polished wood. The top of the lid was scattered with sheet music. With an arrant finger I flicked through the pages. Some of them were from folios of printed works. Others were scrawled with red notes along the staff; no doubt these were of Erik's own composition. I sighed deeply and then blew a breath across the pages, scattering them further.

They floated to the ground revealing something underneath the music. It was a small hinged box. Curious I set aside my tea cup and reached to examine it further. It was in the shape of a casket with the image of a gruesome spider etched on its lid. A gulp worked its way up my throat and then back down again as I peered inside.

Expecting the worst, I was relived to see a plain set of black iron keys inside. They were much like the same one Erik had given to me to open the door on the Rue Scribe. Lifting them up by the ring, I watched them dangle before me and wondered why Erik would keep them in such a frightening container.

An idea sized upon me and with keys in hand, I made my way back to Erik's room. Determined to have him come out, I placed one of the keys into the sturdy lock. It didn't fit. I tried another that slide into the lock but did not turn. None of the keys opened the door to Erik's room.

At that point I was ready to row myself across the shore and leave him behind if he was determined to sulk. I was begging for his company and he rejected me. I pressed my hand against the door and then my forehead.

How could I love him if he was afraid to even touch me? Perhaps it was because I had touched him? Nothing seemed straight forward and I wished for just a moment he could be as bold in his affections as Raoul had been.

_Raoul._

I shook my head in confusion wondering what had brought Raoul into my thoughts. I quickly dismissed him and turned my back on the door, looking out unto the sea of flowers.

There was another door. When Erik had first guided me through his home, we had passed by that door. He did not mention it and I was too afraid to ask about where it lead to. My fingers curled around the keys as I slowly padded across the room. The door lay just to the left of the organ console. Perhaps it was another secret passage among the hundreds that Erik had access to. Perhaps I was wasting my time calling at his bedroom door. He could have taken this door out of his home and already be wandering around the opera. I had the keys I could walk through the door and find him myself.

My feet carried me to the threshold quickly. It was a strange door cut out of the same polished glass as the wall, but it was a door none the less. I ran my finger over the woodwork of the handle before carefully placing one of the keys into the lock. It turned with ease and opened with a gentle creak.

My fingers wrapped around the door and was surprised to find the other side of the door was made of a smooth material. I peered around the door seeing nothing but pure blackness staring back at me. I would need a candle to see inside. My fingers trailed down the smooth inside of the door in fascination. I turned my head to look for the nearest candle stick.

The door flew out of my hand, slamming against its hinges. I shouted in fear as I pulled my fingers away from the door just before they were crushed inside. A hand pushed hard on my shoulder and I saw its mate pressed against the door.

I was forced to look up into Erik's masked face. His lips were set in a hard frown and he stared at me angry and unblinking.

"What do think you are doing Christine?" he asked in his freighting bitter monotone.

"I thought this was... another way..." I stuttered my fear intensifying as he drilled me to the spot with his gaze.

"Another way out?" he filled in the blank. "Yes I suppose you would like that." He snatched keys out of my hand with lighting speed and I cried out. "Never touch my keys and never try to open this door again! Do you understand?" he shouted.

I quickly nodded and watch him stalk away. Then I found my voice again. "Why?" I asked.

He returned to the piano and dropped the keys into the casket. Then as if he had a second thought, he withdrew them and with a purposeful movement placed them in an inside pocket of his coat.

"Remember the tale of Bluebeard, Christine and consider this your only warning."

* * *

><p>My nap was interrupted by pleas of laughter as Genny and Camille burst into the dressing room. My exhaustion and frustration had finally caught up with me so when I arrived in my dressing room; I immediately curled up in the large high back chair and fell promptly to sleep.<p>

"Ah here is our newest prima donna!" Genny exclaimed. "Still wiping the star dust from her eyes it would seem." I brushed the hair out of my eyes and tried to adjust my appearance. Genny was removing her gloves with her teeth as she had a stack of papers pressed against her chest. They both laugh as they shrugged off their coats and had a seat around the table. I stood up.

"What time is it?" I asked groggily.

"Humm…about 3 o clock." Camille replied.

"I'll go get us some tea then." I said starting for the door.

"Don't bother Christine. We've just come back from lunch. Unless you want something for yourself that is." Genny explained. Camille set down a white box and displayed the contents inside. From the inside came an arrangement of patisseries from one of my favorite bakeries near the opera. I sighed with hunger. What I wouldn't do to be back home enjoying one of Michelle's fresh baked rolls.

"I'm surprised to even see you here Christine." Genny remarked in a clipped tone. "You rushed out so quickly last night."

"I was tired if you remember."

"Not so tired as to dart out of your dressing room before the Vicomte could stop for visit, you wicked girl." Camille added with a grin that implied her comment was only half in jest.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask my hand half way between the table and a decadent looking croissant.

Genny cocked an eyebrow at Camille. "Don't tell her that..." she chided. Camille only smiled and looked on the verge of bursting into a giggle. I was starting to worry giving Camille's reputation for gossip.

"What have you two been talking about? What have you been saying about me behind my back?" I asked anxiously.

Camille brushed a dark curl away from her forehead and then put up her hands in a defensive gesture. "You seem upset Christine. You can be assured I've only spoken..."

"What?" I snapped.

"Only that Raoul is hopelessly in love with you!" she confessed, giggling between her breaths. She stuffed an éclair in her mouth.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" I asked and my chest tightened. I had warned Raoul about seeing me unaccompanied at the opera.

"No, it's not funny." Genny corrected before taking a seat. "It's actually very romantic." She sighed removing her hat. "Please don't look so cross Christine. It's not terrible gossip. It's wonderful news and everyone knows about it."

I gulped and my throat felt hard as the liquid passed downwards. "Everybody?"

"Genny told me the story about how you two met as children. And with him coming to the opera all the time, I assumed he was just trying to rekindle an old flame." Camille explained. "I've seen the Vicomte in his box more times in the last show than he had been in all of last season. It was something else besides his sister's performance that kept him coming back."

"There wasn't any old flame. We were children. We were friends. We still are." I protested slamming my hand flat against the table.

"Calm down Christine. You look like you've stuck you hand in a hornet's nest." Genny gripped my wrist with a calm and firm grasp. "Camille didn't do anything malicious and there is nothing wrong. You're acting as if you are embarrassed."

Genny guided me down to the empty chair at the table. "But it is embarrassing." I insisted. If Raoul had been making this declaration to everyone, he forgot to mention them to the most important person...me..."

Camille and Genny both gasped. "You mean he hasn't told you?"

"But surely you've guessed it by now." Genny insisted.

I sighed. "He told me he cares. I know that he has considerate feelings for me...but he has never said he loves me. Not yet..." I thought back to all those times we had been alone in each other company. Perhaps he would have said it if I hadn't stopped him. If I hadn't found a way to stop him...

A blush rose to Genny's cheeks. "He what? Oh well this is embarrassing. But Raoul hasn't really told anyone...we just all assumed. And you asked for him last night." Genny shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Let not talk about it." she said excitingly grabbing for her stack of papers. "Let's talk about something else."

Camille gave a whining sound. "Besides, we came in to talk about this!" Genny flashed a copy of the paper in front of her face. She riffled through the pages until she came to the section she was looking for. Camille grinned and reached for another éclair.

"Last night, the Opera Garnier treated the privilege persons at its opening night to an array of exceptionally talented ladies." Genny started to read out loud. "While the gentleman did their best and indeed put forth an impeccable performance it was the many voices and characters of the female sex that stole the show. La Carlotta..."

"Would have been better of croaking like a toad." Camille interjected. Genny laughed and even I had to smile at that thought.

"I'll skip over that nonsense and get to the good part." Genny started again. "Filling the lead role of Susanna is Mlle Genevieve de Chagny who recently graced the stage as Diana. This reviewer finds Mlle de Chagny, as always a breath of fresh air. It is a joy to see a young soprano with such talent grace the stage as her singing last night brought both strength and beauty to the role she played. I hope that we will soon see Mlle de Chagny in a principle role as she is destined to mature and become a prima donna in her own right." She smiled. "That is sure to send Carlotta seething"

"Ah someone should tell her that the truth hurts." Camille pointed out.

"In a role that is often overlooked, the audience was treated to an outstanding performance by another young talent in the role of Cherubino. Mlle Christine Daae, an unknown singer made her debut last night in the role of the love struck page boy. She expressed not only the light comedy but also the serious conflict at rest within the character. I could hear and understand every word of her aria for her diction was clear and bold. Daae managed to balance the rapid pace of words and emotions with the tender melodies given to her. In the second act, Daae gave a sublimely beautiful rendition of "Voi, che sapete" that brought the house to its feat. Perhaps because the audience was simply amazed at the power of a voice coming from such a delicate creature. After reviewing opera in Paris for many years, I have never seen such a warm reception of an unknown in a secondary role. Christine Daae has proven her worth in her exceptional performance and I along with many other opera patrons look forward to seeing her progress."

I was stunned. I almost wanted to snatch the paper out of Genny's hands and read it for myself. My anger had faded to be replaced with a blissful sense of accomplishment. My debut had been a success and not just in the opinions of my friends...or Maestro.

"That's not even the best part." Camille exclaimed. She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a small envelope. "Seems you two have not just impressed the critics...but the Opera Ghost as well."

Genny's eyes grew in surprise. "Camille you didn't!"

She nodded slyly. "Straight from Gabriel's desk, when he wasn't looking of course."

I went to snatch the letter from Camille, but Genny was closer and her fingers faster. She torn at the envelope and ripped out the paper inside. I managed to grab one side and read over her shoulder.

_M. Gabriel_

_ It would please me very much to make some changes to the casting arrangements. Since Carlotta has once again proven unsuited to her role, you will have Mlle de Chagny promoted to her understudy and being rehearsing her for the role of the Countess. Also in doing so you will have Christine Daae learn the part of Susanna for her eventual promotion to the role. Never mind about La Carlotta. She will soon be ill_

_ Your obedient servant, _

_ O.G._

By the time I was done reading the letter, I had pulled so tightly on my side of the paper I had almost ripped it off. I didn't understand why Erik felt the need to tamper with things already in place. He had trained me for the role of Cherubino. I had done what he asked of me. I glanced up at Genny to judge her reaction. It was the opposite of mine. She looked ecstatic.

"With the Opera Ghost on our side, we can finally rid ourselves of Carlotta for good." she sighed.

"You don't think this is that serious." I asked uncertain. My thoughts had turned dark at the mention that Carlotta would 'soon be ill.'

"And why shouldn't I?" Genny snapped. She looked at me offended. "This is good news Christine. Finally someone is recognizing me for my talent and yours too."

A knock on the door interrupted us. Camille rose to open it. On the other side a stagehand stood with a long black vase bursting with white roses.

"For Mlle. Christine." he announced.

"Well they certainly aren't for me." Camille remarked snidely. I got up and went to take the vase from his hands.

"Thank you." I said softly and placed it down on the corner of the vanity. The room was still full of flowers from last night.

"Who are they from Christine?" Genny asked.

I looked between the blooms and saw a note. "I'll see. There is a note here."

I opened it.

_I'm not worthy of you._

It was Erik. It was Erik's handwriting. The same scrawled penmanship that I had seen on his music sheets. The same strokes and letter that were on the note of the Opera Ghost...

Quickly, I crumbled the note in my hand. Thankfully my back was turned so Genny and Camille could not see me stuff it into a fold of my bodice.

"Who are they from?" Genny repeated her question.

"It didn't say."

"Must be a secret admirer." Camille pointed out in a sing song voice. I felt a blush creepy to my cheek.

"They must be from Raoul." Genny added with a smile. I shook my head.

"Christine. You're blushing. And I know that look." Camille peered at me with a calculating glance. "You are in love."

I blinked. I was sure my eyes were wide and my lips trembling. Camille some how stupidly mistaken my look of panic as one of love. Genny stood up.

"Tell us Christine. Are you in love?"

"No." I answered quietly, my eyes on the floor. Genny put her hands on my shoulder and shook me as if we were children.

"Tell me the truth." she whined. "Please?"

"Yes..." I whispered.

"Ah then it Raoul!" she started to bounce up and down behaving even more childish.

"No! It's not Raoul." I hissed. It was enough to frighten her to stop. It was enough to frighten me. She looked at me as if I had burned her. Her angelic face was contoured with a furrowed brow and a gapping mouth.

"But..."

"Genny...I didn't mean for that to..." I started.

"You're in love...but not with Raoul. Not with my brother." she sounded hurt. "But why?"

"I just found out from gossip that Raoul is supposedly in love with me." I said defensive. "I can only assume his actions have lead to that assumption for I have made no advances to him. Yes he's your brother and my friend...but I'm..." My words died on my tongue. I started again. "He's...he is still my good friend. And I'm not even sure about my own feelings."

"Who's is it then?" Genny snapped. I was taken aback by her tone. It was no longer giddy and light. It was viscous.

"I can't tell you." I offered, looking at her in confusion.

"I can't believe you didn't know until now. Are you a fool Christine? You even asked for my brother last night and you left before he could see you." Genny drilled. "Are you dense?"

"Genny..." I begged. "Please don't talk like that." I looked over at Camille who also seemed completely caught off guard by Genny's sudden change in behavior.

Genny backed away, her lips pulled up in a pout. At any moment I was expecting her to burst out laughing and explain it was all an act. A joke. But her face did not change as she gathered up her paper and back away to the door.

Camille glanced from me to her and raised one eyebrow. "So...who are the flowers from?" she asked uncertain.

"Probably from her lover." Genny said with a sneer and stalked out the room

* * *

><p><em>I dared to lean forward in my box as Christine made her entrance onstage. I was normally more cautious. Even the aged box keeper after many years had still not discovered how I made my appearance in an otherwise empty box every night. My hand ventured forth into the light, but my face still remained in shadow as I watched the other players on stage.<em>

_ Carlotta had nothing better to do but watch and be silent as Christine sang. It was an ideal situation. On opening night without any promoting Christine had held her own against the jeering fools in the crowd. I had no doubt they had been friends of Carlotta who purposefully made such a nuisance. Now she was the one who had been struck dumb and still. _

_ Genevieve de Chagny...for almost a year I had been grooming her to be Carlotta's replacement. She was young and full of spirit, a perfect candidate to be the Paris Opera's prima donna. She believed in the fanciful tales of the Angel of Music and therefore never questioned my strange manifestation to her. She was young, bright and yes very beautiful. But she was not Christine._

_ I wondered in amazement how Christine could possess such a near perfect instrument without any formal training. I had molded her voice and given her the technique that the public now praised. But she had infused her own passion into the music I gave her. I had wondered if it had been my presence or my teaching that had inspired her. After last night, I knew my answer. Christine's passions came from inside. She injected her spirit into the music._

_ No, no one was like Christine. And last night she had sung for me. For the briefest of moment our eyes had meet each other as she revealed the glorious musical talent within her._

_ "Love tender secret, share it with me…" Her voice rang out as clear as a bell and her words burned in my ears. Love…love is something I should have kept a secret from Christine. I should never have confessed it and then we would not be in this situation. Had I been a stronger man I would have turn her away. I would have recognized my feelings earlier and quelled them before they came to the surface. But I could not leave her. I could not leave her simply because I could not leave the opera. It was my home and hers as well. So I stayed and gained her trust, only to break it._

_ My tongue curled inside my mouth as I recalled the kiss I had given her. She had been so trusting that she did not see what effect her body had on me. I did my best to keep my hands away despite the delicate task. When I saw her standing there, her strong shoulders and chest bound so tightly, I wanted to removed everything and take her then. When I touched her skin, my fingers felt like there were on fire and before I knew it my lips pressed against hers; burning._

_The applause brought me to my sense and away from my recollection. Indeed I noticed patrons smiling, pointing and whispering. All of then fascinated by Christine. She was as humble as every and continued with her role without making a disgusting show of bowing like Carlotta did at the end of all her arias. My eyes journeyed from Christine on the stage to across the auditorium. To a box on the opposite side of the grand tier all most directly across from mine. There I saw him, leaning over the side like a school boy still applauding loudly._

_ My rival. The Vicomte de Chagny._

_ Christine was no fool and was aware that I followed her closely. Despite her best efforts to deter the boy, I had seen them together. I watched how boldly he behaved towards her, as if there were already engaged, already lovers. And I watched Christine rebuff him. I told myself it was all an act. Attempts to have me think she didn't care for him. Christine was clearly taken with the boy and why shouldn't she be. He was young, vivacious and handsome. Everything I was not. _

_ And then I heard her today in the dressing room. I heard the shock in her voice as she found about the idle gossip about her and vicomte's "relationship." Again she denied it. She was embarrassed to even receive my flowers. The way she had looked at them._

_ **No! It's not Raoul.**_

_** You're in love…but not with Raoul.**_

_ I leaned back in my chair and sighed. I wanted to believe her. But I could not fathom that any woman would ever love me willingly. Certainly not Christine. Not after everything I had done to her. I had only just revealed to her my jealousy towards him. After that I wondered if she only denied him out of fear for me. Or was it something else._

_ I watched as the act continued without much adoration. Christine had left the stage and my eagerness to pay attention was gone. Whatever way Christine's affections swayed, I knew that if she continued to sing for me, she was mine._

_ And the young vicomte had made himself a powerful enemy. _


	23. Act Two: Chapter Thirteen

I soon lost the company of my best friend and suffered the moods of my maestro. Genny became occupied with rehearsals as Carlotta's understudy and spent the majority of her afternoons in private practice, per instructions from the Opera Ghost. Nothing had been done to secure any advancement for me. Instead, Madame Emeraude's promotion to Susanna's understudy put Erik in a foul mood that seemed to grow darker every day.

Genny also began acting strangely. Her bubbly conversations and chipper behavior were replaced by moodiness and irritation. At first I thought it to be related to being tired from rehearsals and singing every evening at the opera, but there was something else.

Her offence when I denied I was in love with her brother made me want to explain myself better, but she remained aloof when I brought the subject up again, refusing to talk about it. With rehearsals in the afternoons and my evenings taken by Erik I found myself with little time to continue to try to speak to Genny. So, I begged Erik to allow me my evenings off to perhaps go to supper and visit with my friends, but he, of course, refused.

So I defied him. Twice, in a daring move, I hurried out of my dressing room, following Genny outside the opera where her carriage was waiting However, while my presence was greeted with surprise and excitement by Raoul, who seemed very eager to enjoy a night on the town, Genny only moaned that she wanted to go home. So we parted ways and I returned to Erik, defeated.

My worry for my friend increased. I recalled her gossip about Carlotta and her previous comments, wondering how much of them were made in jest. I feared Erik as the Angel of Music had more power over her than I had suspected. I was certainly not in a position to protest that I had more power against Erik's manipulations. Indeed, I had yielded to him and dared not leave for fear he would harm himself or others. However Genny always seemed more gullible than me and had fervently placed her trust in the Angel of Music without a second thought.

I had to get her away from here. There was something else going on that I could not put my finger one. Something that had changed my friend's behavior in the past week. I had spoken to Raoul about my concern before, but I'm sure he did not take me seriously. I had to convince him to get Genny away from the opera and out of Paris.

November was coming to a close. The opera planned a harvest ball at the end of the month, where they intended to announce the next two operas for the season. For a change of pace, I decided to visit Genny right after she finished with rehearsals. If I was in ever in need of a costume to wear out, this ball would be the perfect place. I wasn't completely sure if Erik would permit me to attend, but I hoped just the same.

I reached the stage just as the singers finished. Genny and Madame Emeraude were going through the complicated blocking in the third act, in which the Countess and Susanna switch places in order to fool the Count. I tried not to pry but I could partly overhear M. Gabriel giving them both strenuous notes on their performance. For once I was glad that I had not been promoted so I could be spared the chorus master's often sharp criticism.

Genny almost didn't notice my presence as she started to pass me in the wings. I reached out my hand and touched her forearm lightly, but it was enough to make her jump and turn on me.

"Oh Christine!" she gasped.

She looked terrible. I knew my friend well. She always made an extra effort to make sure her face was presentable and there was not a hair out of place. Her eyes were red rimmed from fatigue and her lips were pale.

"I thought you might like some company." I offered. I almost asked the reason for her current state, but decided against it. I was able to link my arm around hers and walk through the wings. She followed my lead as if she had no will of her own. We headed down the corridors away from the hustle and bustle of the stage at this time of day when the stage hands and craftsmen fixed chipped paint and broken canvas from the previous night's performance.

"Are your rehearsals going well?" I asked to counter the dreary silence as we walked.

Genny made a small sound that I took for a sigh. "Well enough I suppose. Though I feel like every night I have to unlearn everything from that day, only just to relearn it the next day." she admitted.

"You did tell me that singing was exhausting work." I pointed out. I tried to make my tone sound as cheerful as possible. "But it would be foolish of us to think that success did not come with a price."

My words had set her off. I heard a quick, sharp breath before she shattered the quiet still in the corridor. "I wish Carlotta would just croak like the horrible toad she is! Then all this work wouldn't have been for nothing." She bellowed and broke away from my arm. I nearly jumped out of my skin and swiftly turned to face her. Her shoulders were shaking with rage.

"Genny, I have to ask you." I stopped walking. "Are you serious when you say that? Or are you only joking." She looked at me but did not say anything. "It's just...not like you to say such things...all the time."

Genny blinked. "What does it matter? Do you think I'm horrible for thinking such things, Christine?" I opened my mouth to console her, but was cut off. "No I don't care if you think I'm horrible. And I'm not sorry for saying what I think. Carlotta has done so much worse. Do you know the terrible things she said about me before you came here? She said the only reason I was even allowed in the chorus was because my brother, Phillipe, is a patron." She turned her head away and I could see a tear at the corner of her eyes. I took her hand and held it tight and she looked at me gratefully. "You know how well I like being around people, making new friends. I found it so hard when I first started singing. No one seemed to want to be bothered with me. And then I found out why..." Her voice was starting to crack. We were only a few steps away from the wardrobe department. Pulling her by the hand I increased our pace, for I feared Genny would break into sobbing hysterics at any moment. I pulled her inside and shut the door.

"She spread horrible rumors about me, but worse than that, she said such mean-spirited things about my brothers." Her fists waved in front of her face and she did her best to stop crying. "She said if it was easy enough for my brothers to buy my way into the chorus then before long they would be buying spots for their mistresses as well." She bit her lips. "That may be true about other patrons, but not my brothers. It was bad enough that she spread lies about me, but slandering my family's good name is another matter."

She spoke with a passion that I had never heard from her before. I had no idea that my flippant friend cared so highly about such things. I remembered what Carlotta said to me before and how much delight she took from my reaction. I knew that pain. She had wanted to hurt me.

"I had to work so hard to be recognized. I didn't buy my way into anything! I trained so hard and it was still months before I got a chance to sing a leading role. I felt like a failure...to my brothers."

I put a hand under her chin. "But you are not a failure. Genny, you are the farthest thing from a failure I know." She sniffed. "Please don't cry about such silly things like that. And promise me that you won't get worked up about Carlotta's...stupid lies. You're stronger than this."

"Yes, but you know how it hurts. I still hear some of it every day. What she lacks in talent she makes up for spite. And she's doing the same thing to you now Christine...it's not fair." A sob distorted her last words and she wrapped her arms around my waist in a tight embrace.

The scent of fine perfume filled the air around us. The luxuries that Genny had lived with all her life still had the strange feel of the exotic to me when I found myself surrounded by them. The expensive perfume, the fashionable dresses and the jewelry that was not paste. To have so much and remain unfulfilled seemed a terrible feeling. I let her cry on my shoulder and lifted a hand to smooth down the white blond curls against her neck.

"All this work... and it could all be for nothing. I might never have the starring role as long as Carlotta sings here." she sighed.

"I believe that you will." I said to cheer her up. "One day soon." She pulled away and had a slight smile on her face. "Now let's do something to make you really smile. We need to find something to wear for the masque ball."

Genny's smile grew broader and she squinted in delight, even though her eyes were still red rimmed from her tears. "Yes and what a boutique we have!" she exclaimed. I laughed, for the wardrobe room was actually very dimly lit and a bit dreary. Her smile turned mischievous, "and a friend with the keys."

"Madame LeRoy never did ask me for the keys back." I explained while walking down the long room to fling open many of the large storage closets. "So pick your century!"

Genny surveyed the costumes in the closet I had opened. "Byzantine! No, too gaudy. It has to be from this century." She placed a slender finger to her month in thoughtfulness. "I have just the idea. Do you know where the regency dresses are? The ones we used in La Trivata last year."

I had to think for a long moment, remembering the order in which the costumes were stored. It had only been two months since I left the costume department for the chorus and my recollection of the intricate storage of the thousands of costumes had already begun to fade. Also, I had no idea what anyone wore in an opera from last season

"I think they are in another room." I lead her out of the closet and down a level to another storage area. It was the one we went through when choosing a dress for my first dinner out. It was also my refuge after Freiderich attacked me...and from where Erik first abducted me. Genny made her way to the racks and shuffled about a bit before finally finding what she wanted.

"Voila!" she withdrew a golden highwaisted dress, with cream sleeves and trim. It looked stunning and Genny pressed it against her frame, stroking it lovingly. I saw the smile on her face and I in turn smiled, glad to see my friend back in high spirits.

"It looks lovely on you." I pointed out.

Genny looked up at me, doe-eyed. "Actually I've already worn this. Last year in the chorus. I was actually thinking you would like to wear this dress."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I don't even think I'll even go to the party."

"Why not?"

I hadn't thought of any real reason I couldn't go. I was just certain if I asked Erik he would completely refuse. The last place he wanted me a rowdy room of intoxicated singers and patrons.

"I already have a dress." Genny admitted. "I had a new dress I was just dying to wear. But I had hoped you would be there..." she hesitated, "Sorry. I guessed I tricked you, Christine, but I wanted you to agree to come back here to look for a dress. Are you afraid to come alone?"

I was more than willing to attend by myself, despite the break with tradition, but I just knew Erik wouldn't allow it. I shook my head in genuine sadness. "I suppose so."

"I'm coming with Philippe as my escort. You could attend with Raoul." she suggested.

"I don't think that would be possible."

Genny let the dress start to slip in her hands, the long golden train spilling on the floor. "Oh...I forgot...that."

I knew what she was referring to. Without thinking about approaching the subject with any tact, I pushed ahead. "Again, it's not what you are thinking and you need to give me a moment to explain. When I said I didn't love Raoul, I was not implying that I have any negative feelings towards your brother. I do care about him very deeply, but I'm not sure if it is love. Not the kind of love you have in mind." Her eyes glazed over and her lips formed a pout, a sign she didn't like what she was hearing. "And I'm still embarrassed that everyone thought that we were lovers and gossiped about it. Please, I'm only thinking about Raoul. Think about his reputation if..."

"What about the other?" Genny cut me off.

"The other?"

"The other man. The one that you love." she stated coldly.

I didn't have an answer, not one that wasn't an overly complicated lie or, worse, the shocking truth. I was in love with an older man, driven by his obsession with me and yet scared to touch me. I felt I was destined only to be admired; adored like a pretty doll in a case.

"It's complicated..." I whispered.

Genny shoved the dress in my hand. "Then come to the masque and explain that to Raoul. Don't bother trying to explain it to me." She started to walk off, but then turned on her heels. A coy smile spread over her face. "Besides, I have a surprise to show you then. A surprise you won't want to miss."

* * *

><p>The masque was the following evening and I had yet to gather the courage to ask Erik if I could attend. I was also taking Genny's suggestion to heart. I needed to talk to Raoul in private and perhaps the worst and yet best place would be whispering to him in a crowded ball room. I could tell him how important it was to get Genny away. Perhaps if I knew that Raoul and Genny were safety out of Paris, I could make another escape attempt.<p>

I came back to the house on the lake using the entrance from the Rue Scribe. I called out for Erik, but got no answer. The door to his room was wide open and no one was inside. I found it strange that he wasn't home. I tried to think about where he could be then dismissed my curiosity. Perhaps I was better off not knowing. For lack of anything else to do, I retired to my room.

Upon entering I saw a dress laid out on my bed. I came closer and saw it was the same dress Genny and I admired with a few alterations. The bodice was trimmed with, what looked to my inexperienced eye, real pearls and the hem with a delicate ribbon of red velvet. Beside the dress, sat a wide wooden chest which opened to reveal matching red ribbons and a mask of red velvet embedded with flakes of gold. Beneath the mask lay another small box containing a gorgeous necklace of intricate gold filigree with several large red stones hanging from the ends and a pair of matching earrings. The golden bracelet Genny wore for_ Orpheus_ and that Erik stole for me completed the set. The last item was a plain card with a brief message.

_Your friend has good taste. Please do me the honor of attending the masque with me._

_ Erik_

* * *

><p>After the show I dressed as quickly as possible and, despite my usual disinterest in appearances, the gown was no different than any of the other new dresses and baubles Erik had secured for me I was determined it would be returned to its proper place after tonight. I did my best to put my hair up in a passable imitation of the style popular in decades past with the red velvet ribbon threaded through my curls. I secured the necklace; which felt heavy against my throat. I did not wear the golden stag bracelet.<p>

There was a knock at my door and I heard Erik's soft voice from the other side.

"Are you ready, Christine?" he asked.

"Just a moment," I called

After Erik invited me to the masque, I felt like a half wit for assuming he wouldn't want to attend. A room full of masked people was the ideal setting for him to move about freely. However, I had soon my own ideas. Within the crowd, I could find Raoul and talk to him. Perhaps that I could motivate him to take Genny away from here with a tale that I discovered the identity of the Angel of Music, a jealous person only interested in Genny for unsavory reasons. Not too far from reality, but without revealing the entire truth. Perhaps when they were away, and if I ever got the chance to join them, I could reveal everything.

After one last desperate twist to a strand of hair in front of my face, trying to make limp hair look like a pleasing tendril, I slipped on my gloves and left my room.

If I was impressed by my costume, the effect of Erik's attire nearly knocked me over. I opened the door to a mass of red. He wore a red military inspired jacket with enlarged pockets and cuffs that glittered with golden buttons and red trousers with black trim that led to knee high black leather boots shinned to perfection. The ensemble was completed with a large scarlet cape that pooled at his feet and a black tricorn hat trimmed in red and sporting several large plumes in various shades of the predominant color.

In contrast to the red, Erik wore an ivory mask carved to give the appearance of a human skull. His neck was concealed under an elaborate neck stock of pure white. The effect was chilling as I stared at the mask and remembered what lay beneath it; that his natural face already bore a striking resemblance to a death's head.

"My goodness..." I whispered before opening my mouth to ask a question. Before I could make a sound Erik answered.

"And darkness and decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all." * Erik recited in a deep and slow voice. Then beneath the skull's mask I detected the faint shadow of a smile. "It's from Poe. Do you read much Poe, Christine?"

I shook my head.

"You should. I myself find his works a source of great…inspiration."

Within moments my hand was in the crook of Erik's arm as he led me out of his home, up through the cellars and twisting corridors of the opera to the foyer. The room was packed with party goers. Amidst the golden architecture and the soft gleam from the gas lamps the stairs were teaming with bodies; a sea of colors. However in this sea, Erik managed to part the waves as he made his entrance.

He clutched my hand tightly as we made our way down the stairs. Gasps and whispers greeted us along our descent. I touched my mask for assurance, grateful that the one Erik provided me covered most of my face. I didn't want anyone to recognize me. I discovered quickly that looking at the shocked eyes and faces made me uneasy so I turned my gaze downward. On the long cape Erik wore, I noticed that the golden embroidery on its hem was actually a series of words

_Do not touch me. I am the Red Death stalking abroad._

We made our way to the main floor. I scanned out among the crowd but it was hopeless to try and identify anyone in this chaos. I looked for Genny's familiar blond white curls and after a few moments of inspecting the throng gave up on my search. There were at least a dozen women with the same shade of hair in elaborate up-dos. She could be the angel, the peacock, the fairy, the china doll or the geisha cloaked in a robe of magenta.

Erik pulled us along to the table with refreshments. I didn't realize how flushed my face had become under my mask and from my nerves. All around us there was chatter, laughter and still there were whispers. So I was grateful when Erik turned away for a moment and returned with two glasses of wine for us. I took a small sip and was stunned.

I had tasted that sweet wine before. It had been on Erik's lips.

I was now certain my cheeks were as red as my mask. In my anxiousness, I took another long drink that almost caused me to choke on my wine. Erik noticed and I turned away in embarrassment.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Christine." he asked softly

I nodded quickly. "I suppose so. There certainly are a great number of people here."

He nodded slightly and the feathers on top of his feathers bobbed in unison. "Yes. These events do have a reputation of attracting the vain and unsavory mob." He did not make any effort to lower his voice, wanting to be heard. "But still, I want you to have a pleasant evening, my dear. I gathered that you did not think you would be allowed to attend."

I blinked up at him in surprise. Erik did know me well. "I was afraid to ask. I was certain you would say no."

A dry chuckle escaped his throat. "Christine, I wouldn't deny you life's little pleasures. Especially not the thrill of attending your first party at the opera."

The chords of a waltz sounded. I felt others pass by us as they moved out towards the dance floor. I scanned over the crowd again. The group of people on the stairs seemed to be well into their drinks as mouths behind many masks were open in animated conversation and laughter. There was a group of young girls waiting eagerly around the perimeter of the couples dancing on the floor. I noticed the bounce in their steps and they rocked back and forth on their toes. No doubt these were the young girls of the _corps de ballet_ just waiting for someone to ask them to dance.

"Would you care to dance?"

I was so taken aback that I had to turn to see who asked me. Of course it was Erik. He already had his hand lingering over mine.

"You dance?" I asked.

The move of his head almost seemed out of annoyance, but his voice was calm and smooth. "When it suits me. Do you dance, Christine?"

I bit my lip and he noticed. I should know how to dance. Most girls my age had been invited to balls or at least casual dances by now, but I had missed the opportunity with my father's illness and passing. My only experience in formal dance was from watching others.

"I shall show you." He plucked my wine glass away as easy as flicking a fly from my wrist. He led me out towards the floor and, again, I heard whispers. With each step, my legs felt heavier and I found myself facing Erik sooner than expected. He took my right hand and held it up and out, but not too high. His other arm stopped a few inches from my hip.

"If you'd permit me." With my quick nod, he pressed his other hand against my waist and pulled me closer to him. "Concentrate on the music. Every beat is a step instead of a note. You'll find the rhythm soon enough." His instructions were encouraging. I smiled and as I did he leaned over and whispered in my ear. "But for now, follow my lead."

I felt my arm move out to the side and the hand and my waist pushed me in the same direction. My feet moved and to my relief I was not as clumsy as I thought I would be. We moved in a small circle. The other dancers kept their distance; either out of respect or intimidation.

Soon I felt my feet pick up the rhythm that Erik had carried me in and they moved effortlessly. With my focus no longer on my feet, I noticed that my left hand still hung free. I glanced over at the other dancers and saw the ladies with their hands on their partner's shoulders. I timidly reached out and grabbed the folds of Erik's cape, looking at it for a long moment before glancing up at Erik. His eyes were focused on my newly placed hand as well.

I heard the music reach a crescendo and felt a moment of panic. It was over too soon. This was my first dance and it seemed like only a moment had passed. I wanted it to last longer, but it was foolish of me to think so since I had the entire evening for more dancing. Erik's steps slowed and I echoed them. Boldly, my hand left the cape and reached inside the fold of scarlet fabric. I made contact with cold metal buttons and rough braid of his jacket and felt him shudder beneath my touch.

The song ended with a round of polite applause for the players, but it didn't seem to reach my ears. Instead, I heard only Erik's voice as he leaned over to speak in my ear.

"Anything you desire Christine, I will give to you. _Anything_."

It was my turn to shudder.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a masked figure in a black cloak with a hint of emerald green peeking out from among the folds of cloak and formal wear. The mask was plain and black; it reminded me of Erik's mask.

"Will you do me the honor of this next dance, mademoiselle?" he asked. His voice was unfamiliar to me and with a strange accent I could not place. He offered his hand in a gracious manner and I went to accept it. It would have been rude not to.

Erik kept my other hand and squeezed it tightly. We were close enough that I could lean over and whisper in his ear. "Please…don't make a scene." I tried to reason with him. His response was just to squeeze tighter. I winced. "You're hurting me."

He let go. I took my new partner's hand as he led me further into the dance floor for the next waltz. I hadn't figured I would be doing much dancing at all, but if I spent every dance with Erik, even in the crowd we would draw attention. Erik's presence was hard to ignore. While I could hide my face, I could not hide my voice. Someone could recognize me.

The strings started to play as the man gently placed his arms in the proper position. The beat was lively as we swayed to the music. I was relieved to find my new partner was an adept dancer.

"Your suitor was unwise to let you go, Mlle Daae." He remarked in that strange voice.

I blushed. "Oh, he's not my suitor…" I started to protest. Then I realized what else he had said. "How do you know my name?" I studied him further. Beneath the plain mask, I could tell that the color of his skin was dark. I glanced at his wrists and the gap between his gloves and sleeve also reveal a patch of dark skin.

"I know a great deal about you Christine Daae." He replied.

Now I was afraid. I tugged away from him but only met with his other hand at my back. He pulled me closer to him. His black cape almost enveloped us both. "Do I know you sir?" I asked and hear the panic rise in my voice. I wanted to run back to Erik, but we were soon both crushed by the swell of bodies around us.

"No you do not. But I know about you and you must trust me, mademoiselle. I know what has been happening between you and Erik."

I gasped loudly and the eyes behind my partner's masked narrowed disapprovingly, indicating that I should be quiet. "You know about Erik…" I murmured.

"Yes and I know that you are in a dangerous situation. That is why I arranged this ruse to get you away from him. I have a friend of yours here. You must speak with him. You must tell him everything." His voice was serious and insistent.

"A friend?" I shook my head in distrust, "What friend? Who is he? Who are you?"

He smiled and looked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze hoping I could make out a tall red form. But my eyes were only greeted by a black shadow and then my body made contact with it.

"And here he is." My strange partner released his grip. "Good luck Mademoiselle Daae," he whispered.

Before I could move anywhere, I was swept up into the arms of another dance partner; the black shadow that had bumped into us. He whirled me around as the music swelled and then brought me in to meet him face to face. He wore the same style of black cape the other strange man had worn. In fact they were almost identical as was the black mask over his face. My fingers trembled within his hands until I noticed a streak of blond hair at the top of the mask.

"Christine…"

"Raoul!" My heart leaped in excitement, thankful not to be in the arms of a stranger any longer. Then my fear overcame me. "Who was that man? What are you two doing?"

"Christine." He cut me off and I had never heard his voice sound so severe. "Follow me. I'm going to dance with you but we are slowly going to move to the outer edge of the dance floor. Then we need to leave this room and get away. Do you understand?"

I nodded and followed him as he led me gracefully through the waltz. With each step we moved further and further away from the main crowd and away from the crushing mass of bodies. I looked at Raoul nervously. I also used every turn we made as an excuse to glance back and see if I could find Erik, but he seemed to have disappeared. Once we left the dance floor, Raoul pulled me by the hand and quickened his pace.

"Where are we going?" I asked breathlessly.

"Away from here. Out of this accursed building," he growled.

I panicked and dug my feet into the floor. That seemed to stop my forward motion for a moment. Raoul turned to face me. His eyes under the mask were wide with surprise.

"Why are you stopping?"

"You cannot! You cannot take me out of this building. I won't leave with you and you can't force me." I spoke rapidly. "You can't! You can't!" Now the fear rang clear in my voice. He stopped and pulled me closer, shocked by my pleas.

"Christine. I have to get you away from here. I'm doing this for your safety." He protested.

Despite my panic of what would happen to me if Erik found out about me leaving the opera, I relaxed in Raoul's embrace. I rested my cheek against his chest and felt the steady drum of his heart. This was someone I didn't have to love and at the same time be afraid of; someone who wouldn't fly into a rage if I left his side.

At least, I hoped my assumptions about Raoul were correct. I felt the slightest pressure as his hand touched the back of my piled hair. "Don't be afraid, Christine. I didn't mean to upset you, but I must speak with you. Is there any place we can go where we can talk in private? Where your friend won't hear us?"

I did not need to look at Raoul to tell what he meant by "friend" We stood off in a corridor which was relatively empty. The golden lights and mirage of colors from the foyer beckoned to us both like a strange wonderland. I feared Erik was already in the shadows. He could be right behind me for all I knew. I took a deep breath and thought. Not in my dressing room, or on the stage. Not in the wardrobe department or for that matter any other work room of the opera. Not in the stalls or any of the boxes.

I glanced upwards.

"The roof."

* * *

><p>Learned something new. The quote "Beneath your feet lies the tomb of tortured men. Thus does the Red Death rebuke your merriment!" is not from the poem "The Masque of the Red Death" by Poe. It is an original quote from the 1925 Phantom film with Lon Chaney. I thought it was the poem but after some double checking I discovered I was mistaken. Either quote is still very chilling.<p>

Also I'm happy to have on board a beta reader! So many thanks to avidreadercina for correcting all my annoying spelling mistakes and helping me out.


	24. Act Two: Chapter Fourteen

Act Two: Chapter Fourteen

Anywhere outdoors in late November would have made a strange place for a rendezvous: the rooftop of the opera was no exception. The lack of cloud cover made already frigid temperatures almost unbearable as we emerged from the service door to face a field of cold, distant stars.

I made my way across the roof, shivering as the wind began to pick up. I stepped away from Raoul to gaze up at the magnificent sculpture that lay ahead of me: Apollo, the god of music, holding his lyre above all Paris.

Erik had called me Persephone at our first meeting. I had already acknowledged our strange relationship parallel that of Hades and Persephone. But was there more? Erik was not Hades simply because he lived underground. He was Apollo as well. Even the beautiful god of music had pinned after women who would not have him. He was Orpheus and I recalled how passionately he had spoken about the Orpheus' fate before.

"Christine, wait," Raoul called after me, reminding me of his presence and my reason for bringing him up here. He gripped my hand and turned me to face him before quickly snaking his hands underneath my mask, holding my face on both sides. I wasn't aware how cold it was until Raoul's hands were pressed against my cheeks. Their warmth practically burned my chilled flesh. He drew close enough to share breath, looking straight into my eyes.

"Christine, I love you." Then the lips that had uttered those precious words were on my mouth. His kiss was soft, but fierce, as if he was containing himself. But his hands pressed harder against my cheeks and his fingers entwined themselves in my hair. Our masks pressed against each other and I wanted desperately to tear them off.

_I love you._

I had heard those words spoken to me a dozen times before, but never before had they set my heart pounding like this. Raoul started to pull away and I attempted to stop him, desperately clasping one of his wrists and forcing it against my cheek. With my other hand I lifted my mask over my head. We stared at each other for a long moment, as if the cold night air had sucked the breath from us both.

"Forgive me but I had to say it. I had to let you know." Raoul finally spoke. "I love you Christine and I'm sorry if the way I acted before made you embarrassed or ashamed. I'm sorry for not making my affections known." He licked his lip and then brought his other hand back to my face, stroking the side of my cheek and neck affectionately. "I was afraid to make any proclamations, and felt at times that I was rushing into things. Acting foolish, like you said, and you seemed so eager to dismiss me." He leaned his forehead forward so that it touched mine. I felt his soft hair blown by the wind tickling the top of my head. "But I can't stay silent any longer. I love you Christine Daae. I want to marry you, that is, if you would have me for your husband." He titled his face up and pressed a kiss against my forehead.

I brought my arms to wrap around his waist and pressed against him. I wanted to have him hold me like that forever. Before, so cautious and worried about his display of affections, I kept my distance, even rebuked him. Now I didn't want to let him go.

"_Christine."_

It was not Raoul's voice that blew past my ear. I jerked my head up expecting to see someone else, my pounding heart becoming still. Perhaps it was simply the wind calling my name. I lifted my eyes to look at the statue of Apollo, tracing his black silhouette against the soft and clear sky.

"Christine." This time it was Raoul speaking. I looked back at him. His hand came down to my shoulders and pressed against them. "I love you and I want to protect you. I have to protect you."

_I have to protect you._

Erik's words echoed within Raoul's. "So you must tell me why I have a stranger come to my house and tell me you are in danger. Telling me you're being kept prisoner." When I simply stared back at him in dumb frustration, he shook my shoulders lightly. "Tell me Christine." I gazed pointedly at the hands gripping me and Raoul dropped his arms.

"What stranger?" I asked. Then I thought of the dark skinned man who had swept me away from Erik. "The man in the cloak? The one who passed me off to you? Who was he?"

"That doesn't matter," he protested.

"Tell me! He called you a friend. Who was he?" I demanded.

"I'll tell you the truth of what I know so far. From what I've heard and what I've been told. And some of that truth that came from you was a lie. You been telling me you've been concerned for Genny's safety, but I think you were covering. You're the one in danger." His voice was cool as he spoke, as if scolding a child. "I'll tell you what I know, but you have to promise me to tell me the whole truth, in return."

He thought this a simple moment of quid pro quo, when in truth the gravity of the situation weighed against my frame. If I told him what I knew, the lives of my friends could be forfeit. Erik would surely retaliate against others instead of me for my betrayal. If I stayed silent, I still couldn't save them or myself and would lose the trust of my dearest friend.

"All right," I decided and felt all the weight in my body disappear. "Who was that man?"

Raoul guided us over to Apollo's lyre and made me sit against the stones. He took off his cloak and mask, the first of which he draped over my shoulders and bare arms, before taking a seat beside me and placing a warm hand over mine.

"He is known only as the Persian. Genny told me about him when she first entered the chorus. No one knows much about him except that he is a patron of the opera and is often seen there. I saw him occasionally in my box at the opera," he explained. I took this in, puzzled. I did not recall such a man and was quite certain someone of his particular features would have caught my attention after working in the opera for several months.

"However, I ran into him the opening night. Genny came to find me and asked me to come to your dressing room, but when we opened the door you weren't there. I was puzzled since Genny assured me she had left you there only a moment ago. Your day dress remained, but your costume was missing."

While I was flattered with flowers five levels below ground, my friends were wrapped up in the mystery of yet another of my strange disappearances.

"The Persian appeared as I turned to leave. He simply asked if I knew where you were and then left. It was all very strange. Imagine my surprise when he appeared at my townhouse a week later. Thankfully, Genny wasn't home. I'm sure she would have loved to start some silly gossip of her brother entertaining the mysterious Persian in his parlor," he said with a conspiratorial wink. "He introduced himself as the Daroga, a police inspector of his home nation. He, again, asked me about you. I explained that I was a good family friend with very strong feelings for you and that your strange disappearances worry me. I did my best to trust you, Christine. I wanted to."

He leaned his head against the statue. I noticed how his bright blond hair contrasted starkly with the dark stone.

"He then asked about your fortnight absence, after the production of Orpheus. When I told him what I knew of your time away, he told me bluntly that you were lying; that you never left the opera. At that point I wanted to toss him out of my house for being so impertinent, but wanted to know how he knew all of this. So I held myself in check and asked him to explain. He was very cryptic and said only that you were being held against your will by a man; a man who had power over you. He would not reveal this man's identity, which infuriated me. If what he said was true, I wanted to find you and this man. But he warned me I could not free you by force or it would mean …" He hissed in frustration and raked his fingers through his hair.

I sat in fascination, listening to him as if I was hearing about these strange circumstances for the first time. Yet I knew what these speculations would lead to.

"What would it mean?" I asked, already knowing the answer

Raoul glanced at me, an uncertain look in his eyes. "It would mean disaster for you and all of the opera," he said finally. "That I would have to ask you, and if you cared for me you would tell me the truth." He paused, reflecting on his words, and then he tried to laugh. "But that is ridiculous; just as ridiculous as this strange man telling me about these bizarre circumstances and then not revealing the whole truth. This man who knows nothing about us," his chuckle was forced and short.

But it was the truth. If I cared for Raoul, as he cared for me, I would tell him. I would tell him and I would have him trust me. At the same time, if I truly loved Erik, I could not tell Raoul anything. The wind whipped up again as I felt two opposing forces tear at me. It billowed underneath the cloak and my skirts. For a moment I wished the wind would simply lift me up and carry me away.

Raoul was growing suspicious of my silence. "He arranged this deception so I could find you at the ball. So I could speak to you. Christine, I will apologize every day for my actions before, and for now. For believing … no, accusing you of such things. But I trust you. Say this is not true and I will believe you. Say there is no other man and this is all a misunderstanding." His hands came back to my face and rested under my chin. I forced myself to look up at him and noticed a tear in the corner of his eye. His eyes were red, trying to fight off his fatigue and sadness. "Say you love me and will marry me and I'll believe anything you say," he pleaded.

I knew of heart break from a dozen descriptions in books. I had thought it only existed in fiction, but in that moment I felt it. It was as real as the cold stars above my head and the chilled stones beneath my feet. My heart felt as if an iron grip were squeezing it and dragging it down further into my body. It was a pain, both physical and emotional. I had cried many tears for Erik; felt his loneliness and pain reflected back on my person. I felt such great pity for my Maestro, knowing all the horrors he had suffered: enough pity to calm my initial fears of his face. Enough to bring me back to his side every night. I loved Erik.

But now my heart was breaking for _Raoul_.

It would be so easy. I could accept his proposal of marriage. I could make him take me anywhere. With his wealth and station we could live anywhere; half way across the world if I wanted. We could be happy and he would never have to know. I just had to lie once more.

I looked into Raoul's eyes and my resolve hardened. I was finished with lying.

"Raoul, what you heard is true," I said solemnly. "I have been kept prisoner by someone …"

He did not let me finish, jumping to his feet. The tears of sadness in his eyes turned quickly to rage. "No! Please, God, no!" He shouted directing his cry to the sky above. "Who is he Christine?" he demanded.

I remained as calm as possible. "He is the Phantom of the Opera," I said simply.

Again Raoul's expression rapidly changed. He looked at me in disbelief and then started to smile. "You're joking. Very funny, Christine."

"It is no joke," I hissed in protest. "The Phantom of the Opera—the Opera Ghost— is nothing more than a man. He is a man of flesh and blood. And I stay his prisoner only to keep you and everyone else from harm."

He stared at me, letting my words sink in. "Tell me it's not true," he whispered after a long pause.

It was now my turn to cry. "I wish it were not. But many things I have told you before were lies. This is the truth." I let the tears fall freely over my face. I raised my hands to brush them away and hide my shame. For a long time I didn't want to look at Raoul. I _couldn't_ look at him. Finally I heard him sit back down beside me. His arms wrapped around my frame and I yielded to his embrace.

"When I first met him, I did not know his true identity," I started to speak in a strong voice ready to tell my tale. "I only knew him as my maestro. He was so...exceptionally kind to me that I did not suspect or question his motive for giving me music lessons for free. He prepared me to audition for the chorus. He inspired me with the courage and passion I did not have before; that I could not summon of my own accord."

"Your Maestro, he is the same one you spoke of to me before," Raoul asked with firm certainty in his tone. I nodded. I felt terrible knowing that the more I spoke—the more I confessed—the sooner he would discover the truths behind all my lies of before.

"However, the closing night after Orpheus everything changed. I insisted you drive me back to the opera, for I had borrowed the gown I wore for dinner from the wardrobe department and needed to return it. I came across Genny, walking through the corridors and saw a shade, a man dressed in black, following her. We ran. I pulled Genny away from him and we ran. She got out of the opera. I didn't."

Raoul gently squeezed my shoulders. "Yes, I remember that night. Genny came out, screaming in terror. We both went back in to look for you. But the door was locked. All the doors were locked," he explained.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "He took me to his home. I woke in a strange dwelling carved into the cellars of the opera. I then knew my Maestro for who he really was: the vengeful ghost who terrorizes the opera staff and blackmails the managers. He also arranges my singing career through fear and intimidation." I paused, feeling more salty teardrops fall over my cheeks. "He confessed that he loved me. That he fallen in love with me and was determined to keep me with him." I did not mention the fact that I had also made certain confessions in the house by the lake; that I had fallen in love with my Maestro as well. "So I stayed with him for a fortnight. I was too afraid to leave. I was afraid of what he would do to me or, worse, what he would do to others to get to me."

"Wait," Raoul stopped me. "Why does he live underground, aside from the fact that he is quite mad?"

I had not mentioned the mask and had to take a moment to steady myself. Soon Raoul would know that I chose to trust and give myself to a mad man with such a terrifying face. How I chose Erik's protection over my friend's trust.

"He wore a mask. It puzzled me at first, but I thought he must have been a veteran, scarred by war. One day, finally driven mad by my curiosity, I tore his mask away." My breath caught in my throat. I recalled the terrible face and the even greater terror in Erik's eyes when he knew I had seen him. Then I let out a loud moan.

The wind echoed the sound.

"He … he is horribly deformed. That is why he hides behind a mask. That is why he lives in a cellar beneath the earth. It is like a death's head. A skull brought to life. It is horrible. Horrible," I murmured. No amount of love could distort the truth. Erik's face frightened me.. In the past month I had tried so hard to put it at the back of my mind. I thought it was the only way I could live in the same house with him and still keep my sanity. But my efforts were in vain. The memory of when I had unmasked him played in my head like a waking nightmare.

"I finally managed to convince him to let me leave; to see Mamma Valerius. To my surprise he agreed, only if I promised to return to him if I were in danger. On the day of my audition I returned to my home." I thought with melancholy that I had not slept in a bed above ground for almost three months. I had been entombed in my own crypt. "That was the night I was attacked. When Frederich tried to rape me. When I ran away from him, I ran back to the opera." Raoul turned his head away from me. I knew what he was thinking. I had not come to him. "Erik found me and took me back to his home. He cared for me and dressed my wounds. When he pleaded for me to stay with him, I was so overcome with emotion and compassion that I agreed."

Raoul rounded his head back in my direction swiftly. "Erik. His name is Erik."

"Yes," I answered discomforted by his quick change in mood. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I heard you speaking to a man inside your dressing room the night of the opening gala, when you disappeared again without a trace. Was that Erik?"

I gasped. Raoul had heard me. "Yes, but …"

"So you have feelings for him? You have compassion." He spat the word in my direction. The anger returned to his tone. "I have offered my help and my ... my heart to you Christine. And you have refused me every time. Yet you rather return to that ... that monster." His arms fell away and I felt lost without them. "You aren't afraid to leave. No, you want to stay. It seems to me you are madly in love with him."

"No," I protested.

"Then come away with me Christine. Let me free you from this monster. We can go to my estate in Brittany. All three of us if you like." He clasped his hands over mine. "Come away with me."

"I cannot," I said simply.

"Because you love him! Because you don't want me. You want him!" He challenged.

I pressed my hand over Raoul's mouth. I wanted to force his hateful words back inside. He did not know how they were tearing me apart.

"I cannot leave! Erik will kill you!" I shouted.

Again, the wind seemed to repeat the horrid phrase back to us. I shook my head as if I could deny those words.

"I thought I could leave once. But Erik found me. I wasn't even a block away from the opera before he caught me once more. He is everywhere I am. He will follow me and if I leave him, he will come after me. He will find me and he will kill anyone who gets in his way. Of this I am certain, my dear friend." I felt drained of breath and could have collapsed right there on the stones. Erik was insane and I risked harm and mortal danger to others if I dared to leave his side.

I was his prisoner.

I put my hand on the tails of Raoul's coat and formed a fist within the folds of the fabric. "There is one more thing," I started. "I have been pleading with you to take Genny away. Surely you too have noticed she has been acting strangely."

Raoul nodded in agreement. "You have spoken to me about her welfare, but it was just a cover. Your concern for Genny was really concern for yourself." Raoul lifted my face up with a cupped palm. "Genny is safe with us. It's you I'm worried about Christine."

I sighed. "Please just listen. You have to get Genny out of Paris." I licked my lips nervously. "You remember what she said about the Angel of Music?"

I didn't finish. Raoul gasped, "My God, it's not."

"It _is_ him. The Opera Ghost and the Angel of Music are one in the same. Genny trusts him. I know Erik is powerful and can manipulate her. I think he already has. I don't just fear for your sister's sanity, Raoul, I fear for her life. You must convince her to leave the opera." The horror slowly drained from Raoul's eyes to be replaced with determination.

"Only if you come with us."

"We are all safer if I remain here with Erik."

His name resounded in my ear. I recalled my own words. _He is everywhere I am_. I stood up hastily. "I must go. It's not safe here."

Raoul did not let go of my hands. "I'm getting my carriage. We are leaving and you are coming with us," he insisted.

"Raoul."

He silenced my protest with another kiss. His strong fingers entwined in my hair while his other hand supported my neck. He pressed against me without restraint and I pressed back. I could have died right there; held by Raoul and safe from Erik.

He pulled away reluctantly. "Go find my sister," he said. Then we ran away from the shadow of Apollo and back down the winding stairs and catwalk to the grand foyer. We emerged at a side entrance one level above the foyer, glancing to each other before putting our masks back over our faces. Raoul swiftly brought my hand to his lips and pressed a hard kiss upon it.

"Christine," he whispered, before rushing toward the exit. I stood there for a moment, still dumbstruck with the enormity of what had just happened. Then I gathered myself, turning to my right and walking down a side corridor where I could look out between the pillars to see the crowd dancing. I looked for a tall man with dark hair, remembering that Genny was attending with Philippe. My heart raced as I scanned the revelers. If we did escape, we would all have to explain this strange occurrence to Philippe. If we did escape, if I acted quickly enough, we could be at the de Chagny estate on the coast before Erik could catch us.

I turned from the crowd when I could not find my target, moving to get a better view. My hand swung at my side. As it swung back, it became ensnared in the perfect trap as another hand grabbed at it. I was pulled off my feet for a second before stumbling and fighting as I was dragged away. I looked up to see a long red cape covering my captor's frame. I stepped down on it, trying to trip him.

Erik turned and lifted me from the ground with ease. Brushing his cape aside with one foot, he set me on my feet against the wall, pinning my arms with a single hand.

"Where did you run off to my love?" he hissed. "I did not give you permission to leave me. I did not give you permission to run off with your precious Vicomte."

I opened my mouth to scream, but was silenced by his free hand. My tears started afresh. He_ knew_. He had to have been there on the roof with us. He had heard everything. The dark gleam in his eye told me he knew and was not pleased.

"Someone has been telling secrets. You must have thought yourself very clever Christine. It must have taken you weeks to think of such a clever deception to get away from my clutches, as it were. You even managed to recruit one of my old comrades." He pulled me away from the wall and pushed us further into the shadows. "You must tell me how you orchestrated it sometime."

I shook my head and his fingers lifted from my mouth. "I didn't do anything," I gasped. "I don't know that man and I had no idea he was leading me to Raoul. I didn't plan anything!"

Erik shook his head. "Forgive me if I don't believe you," he snapped. "Besides, I have something to show you. A present, if you will." The light around us faded as we moved away from the bright lights of the party. Now we stood in a dark corner illuminated by a single gas lamp only half lit.

"Look Christine," he demanded as he pushed me forward.

"No," I cried. "Please, I don't."

Erik shoved me forcefully. "Look!"

I stepped forward. The click of my shoes thundered in my ears like cannon shots. I saw on the floor a shoe, attached a leg, attached to … a body. I froze. I didn't want to see but morbid curiosity kept me from fleeing. Since I did not make a move, Erik stepped around me and turned the gas lamp up.

"Please," I whispered, closing my eyes. A woman's shoe meant it was not Raoul, but it could have been little Meg, Camille, or Genny.

"Christine! Open your eyes!" I could not disobey and reluctantly continued my journey up this lifeless shell. What had once been a beautiful dress of gold covered with red and black hearts was now a stage set to tell the tale of horrible murder. The bodice of the gown was slashed haphazardly. Blood seeped from fresh wounds peeking through the fabric, staining the luxurious skirts and pooling on the floor. Worse still was a gruesome line across the throat, as if the murderer was intent on taking off the head. Above that, Carlotta's lifeless eyes stared into mine, though she could no longer see this world. Her flame red hair matted against the column that served as her final resting place.

The Queen of Hearts in all her finery.

I attempted to scream, but, as before, Erik's hand covered my mouth, stiffing me. I squirmed in his arms, desperate to get away. All my fears and dark suspicions that Erik would kill again had come true. I thought of what Inspector Girard had told me of Frederich's murder. I now saw the handiwork of that same killer before me and I was in _his arms_.

"Hush!" His breath against my ear felt like steam.

I brought my teeth down hard on his hand. His leather gloves prevented much damage, but it was enough to draw a few fingers away from my mouth.

"You killed her," I gasped. "You killed her."

"Ah, so you think," Erik cooed, "but you haven't seen the best part." He extended his other hand to the side and into the shadows. One long graceful finger extended and beckoned something, or someone, to him. My gaze followed his hand and into the foreboding darkness.

I saw the wings of an angel; a light mass of white feathers cutting through the shadows and coming into view. It was followed by a face; a beautiful angelic face that I knew very well.

Genny emerged. Her face was framed by the angel wings on her back. She gave me a slight smile and looked down. I followed her gaze downward to her fashionable evening dress. It was a delicate arrangement of folded silk, ruche satin, white lace … and blood.

She laughed. It was the most horrendous sound I have ever heard. It was not sweet innocent laughter that graced my friend's throat, but an insane howl. Then I saw the knife in her hand. I could not take my eyes off it. Her horrible laughter filled my ears and Erik all the while remained unnaturally silent.

It stopped and Genny's eyes met mine. She gave no indication that she was upset by the look on my face or by anything that surrounded us. She only smiled again.

"Isn't it wonderful, Christine?" she said. Her tone was cheerful and that frightened me. "We have both been truly blessed, just as I knew we would. The Angel of Music has given me," she stretched out her arms, "all of this!" she laughed.

I turned and looked back at Erik. Genny made a _tsking_ sound. "It's all right Christine. I already know. The angel has already told me about you too. You are very lucky." She stepped forward and pressed a finger against my cheek. It was wet with blood. "Because of his actions, we will achieve musical glory just as we were destined."

"Genevieve. What have you done?" I asked, my lips trembling as I spoke.

She held up the knife and I feared in her crazed state she would use it on me. It was poised only a few inches from my face. I pressed my body back, only to be stopped by Erik's form behind me.

"My duty," Genny said coldly. "The angel has planned everything for me. I was his devoted pupil and now he has rewarded me for it. All that was left for me to do was to kill those who were unworthy of his music." Her eyes darted over to Carlotta's dead body. I, again, took in the sight of the carnage and imagined the rage that inspired it.

I cried out. Genny had killed Carlotta. I looked into her eyes, usually alight with bright passion. Now they were two cold brown orbs staring back at me. What I had feared had come to life. I knew my friend could be easily influenced, but driven to murder? It was too horrible to contemplate, yet I faced this reality head on.

"Genny." I found my voice. "Listen to me. There is no Angel of Music. Everything this man has told you is a lie." I could feel Erik's gaze burning into me as I spoke. "He is more like the Angel of Death than of music. He is the opera ghost. He's dangerous. Don't listen to anything he says!"

The knife edged closer to my face. I held my breath. Genny stared wildly at me before lowering her eyes. With a somber expression on her face her fingers opened.

"I thought you would be pleased with me," she said in a small voice.

The knife fell onto the floor. Genny started to mummer incoherently under her breath. I came to my senses and realized that while Erik was still behind me, he was making no effort to restrain me.

I didn't give him the opportunity. I sprang forward, grabbing Genny's hand and pulling her away. I ran and did not look behind me. All the while Genny continued to mumble. Her words became clear through repetition.

"I did this for you Christine. I did this for _you_."

The broken sound in her voice only hurried my frantic pace. Somehow in my panic I managed to avoid any populated passage ways, thinking of Raoul and of the waiting carriage. I lead her to our dressing room and practically flung her in while locking the door.

After taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart, I went to her side, pressing my hand against her cheek. She did not respond to my touch, but simply stared over my shoulder at nothing.

"Genny," I called to her. "Can you hear me? Can you understand me?" I pleaded. I went over to the dresser and dipped a cloth into a pitcher of water. I wiped her face and hands with it, trying to remove the blood. I only managed to smear it, getting more of it on my hands than on the cloth. I gave a frustrated groan. Genny remained silent.

"I'm going to take you away from here, Genny. Raoul and I are going to take you somewhere safe," I told her. "Do you understand me? I'll keep you safe, safe from him."

I anxiously awaited any sign of her response. Then she started to laugh once more; a harsh chuckle that sounded as if she were swallowing a mouthful of nails. I didn't know which was worst; her crazed laughter or her confession. _I did this for you._

I was running out of time. Erik would be on us at any second and no door would stand in his way. I raided Genny's wardrobe and pulled out a peach colored frock. Without any protest from my friend, I stripped away her blood soaked gown. Once she was changed I took her by the hand once more and lead her away. All the while she kept laughing and I was now certain she had gone quite mad.

When we re-entered the foyer, I pulled my mask off of my face and placed it over Genny's madding expression. I pulled her along through the crowd. Suddenly the surge of bodies around us grew. I heard a growing commotion as people start to talk excitedly. Everyone seemed to be heading for the exits all at once. I commanded myself not to panic. I reached my hand over Genny's shoulder and lowered her head. I kept my gaze on the nearest door, not daring to look at anyone. The excited talk gave way to small screams, but I pressed on.

Again, the cold wind of the Paris night nipped at my skin as we finally made it outside. Around us men were raising their hands to call for cabs while the women on their arms complained about the cold. I searched until I spotted a familiar carriage and a tall figure with blond hair.

Raoul's jaw dropped as he saw us; his sister barely standing of her own accord and mumbling like a lunatic and me with fierce determination in my eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

I thrust Genny forward. "Get her in the carriage. Get her out of here. Leave the city!" I commanded. Without another word Raoul wrapped his sister in his arms and lifted her up. He brought her the few steps to the open carriage door, comforting her as only a brother could. I looked over my shoulder at the crowd. I saw black tailcoats, dresses of mauve, gold and indigo: decadent costumes draped with blues and greens, but no red.

"Christine." Raoul returned from placing Genny inside the carriage shaking a little from the cold. He extended his hand to me.

"Come with us."

I was poised on the step above him. I glanced down at his honest face. I leaned forward.

I never went beyond that step. In one swift moment I was pulled backward against Erik's chest. I did not need to turn to see it was him. His shadow was cast over us both on the steps. His cape blew fiercely in the wind in front of me. The two men stared at each other; Raoul gazing up in horrified disbelief before slowly his eyes narrowed in anger at his rival.

"Come inside, Christine." Erik whispered. "You'll catch your death out here."

From behind us came a terrified voice issuing a panic inducing proclamation.

"Murder!"

END OF ACT TWO

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><p>AN: aHa! That's the end of act two folks sorry it went on so long.

I must give credits were it's due as the first part of the chapter was influenced heavily by the Apollo's Lyre chapter from the original Gaston Leroux's novel to whom I owe everything...


	25. Act Three: Chapter One

Act Three: Faust

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><p><em>Christine burst into hysterics the moment I began to pull her away from her young lover, beating her small fists against my chest. Despite her protests, I managed to move us through the panicked crowd towards the nearest entrance of my domain. When she saw that her efforts were not slowing us in the slightest, Christine allowed herself to become dead weight, forcing me to shift my grip on her arms to half carry, half drag her into the passages between the walls. In the darkness the patrons' screaming died to a murmur and Christine's sobs grew painfully loud in comparison. But, oh, how she cried.<em>

_I had cried like that, only moments ago. When I saw her beneath the shadow of Apollo, as she freely gave herself to Raoul de Changy's embrace and kiss. But my sorrow only lasted long enough to fuel my rage at her betrayal._

_Christine was **mine**. She would always return to me._

_Tired of Christine's efforts to slow us, I halted just inside the wall and spun her around to face me. Her tearstained face pained me but did little to assuage my anger._

_"I will drag you the entire way to my home if that is your wish!" I snapped. Christine seemed torn between further hindering our journey and the indignity of being dragged through the opera house. Perhaps sensing my willingness to follow through with my threat, Christine allowed me to take her arm and remained silent for the remainder of our journey._

_When we reached the boat by the lakeside, I lifted her into the seat before moving to quickly untether the craft. Not quickly enough as Christine began to rock from side to side, trying to capsize the small boat. I halted her efforts before getting in myself, steering the vessel away from its mooring into the black expanse of the lake. Once we were a good distance from the shore, Christine shot me a fierce look of determination before abruptly standing. I knew what she was playing at and quickly caught her wrist and forced her back down before she could jump overboard. She shouted wordlessly in indignation. I silenced her by placing my left foot over the folded hem of her dress that was tangled about her legs, pinning her to the spot._

_She glared at me, her striking sapphire eyes shining brightly even in the shadowy darkness of my domain. I was forced to turn away._

_I knew that she was angry at me, but she should have expected that from me. She knew me as I truly was and what I was capable of. All I had done was full fill my vow to protect her and to advance her singing career at any cost, without even a single drop of blood on my hands…this time. She should be grateful for my restraint._

_When we reached to the other shore, I secured the boat and turned to offer Christine assistance from the craft . She refused my offer. My fury at Christine's ungrateful behavior had dimmed by the time we reached the opposite shore, only to flare again at her refusal. She stood up rapidly, almost losing her balance. She didn't have a chance to protest as my arm was quickly around her waist to steady her. She pushed me away and stomped off toward the door to my home. She waited impatiently at the concealed entrance, while I undid the mechanism to open the door._

_I once again attempted to take her hand to guide her inside and she flung herself backward at my approach. "Don't touch me!" she shouted, shying away like a wounded animal, Keeping her sights on me, Christine stumbled into the room, cursing me all the way. After a second stumble, Christine finally gave in to the need to watch her step, spinning angrily on one heel. The train of her gown swirled around her, ensnaring her legs, and her first step caught on one of the many floor rugs. Christine pitched forward and I winced at the harsh slap of her hands breaking her fall against the stone floor beyond the edge of the rug._

_Kneeling beside her, I grabbed one arm, lifting her into a seated position. Once up, she overcame her momentary shock and pushed me away again._

_"Get your hands off me. Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" she snarled, curling her hands into claws and lunging towards my masked face._

_I didn't give her that chance. Ignoring her cries, I pulled her up and deposited her none too gently on a nearby arm chair. She crumpled backward to escape my grasp and then rocked forward once I had stepped away. Her hands came up to cover the fresh tears rolling down her already tear stained face. I watched her for a moment, speechless, for even while she sobbed she was breathtakingly beautiful to me. When Christine shook more violently than her tears warranted, I noticed the chill in the air. Cursing myself for forgetting others' need for warmth, I quickly stepped into the kitchen to toss a few small logs onto the dying hearth._

_Returning to Christine, I slipped behind her chair, removed my cloak with one graceful move and placed it over her shaking shoulders. I dared to let a finger trace against the outline of her chin as I brought my hands up and away. Sensing my movements, though I had not actually touched her, Christine's sobs quieted and she turned slightly to face me._

_"Why did you do it, Erik?" she cried. "Why did you kill her?"_

_"I didn't, Christine," I gently reminded her._

_Christine's gaze hardened at my words. "I don't believe you."_

_I rounded the chair to stand in front of her, my hands pressed together to keep myself from reaching for her. Christine's eyes followed my movements, narrowing in suspicion._

_"I don't believe you. I can't believe anything you say," she continued, accusatorily._

_"What other choice do you have?" I stated. "You saw what happened with your own eyes."_

_She shook her head in a silent denial. "No! Genny wouldn't have done that. I know what I saw, but I don't care. I don't care what I saw and I don't care what you say. Genny wouldn't kill anyone. She **couldn't!**"_

_Christine's stubborn clinging to the false image of her friend's purity was nothing if not childish. Perhaps I should treat her as a child when explaining the realities of this world. Murder was a common occurrence, especially in fits of passion. My own actions were evidence of this fact. My love and devotion for this beautiful girl before me had driven me to enact justice for the wrongs committed against her, through lethal force where necessary. But how to explain the difference between my own actions and those of the de Changy girl's in a way Christine would understand?_

_"Passion and devotion can drive certain people to madness." I pointed out._

_Again she fixed me with her hate filled gaze. "Like you," she hissed._

_I did not agree. I rationally thought through the end result of any action I chose to take, unlike the de Changy girl. She had only maintained a confidant air until the actual deed was done. With La Carlotta stilled, her spilled life's blood no longer able to hold her in this world, Genevieve de Changy's calm demeanor had fled. Perhaps I should have left her to the police, as I'd originally intended, with the evidence in place to clear all of Christine's competition from the stage permanently. I had not intended to involve Christine in my plans, but the unexpected surprise of her rooftop rendezvous and the means with which she had arranged it upset my equilibrium. I had only thought to upset hers in return. Now she was convinced that I was responsible for La Carlotta's demise._

_"Think of me what you will, Christine, but I know the truth. Carlotta met her end by the hand of Genevieve de Changy. Ask her yourself, when you get the chance."_

_"She would confess?" Christine asked to herself in a bewildered voice._

_"I suspect so." I answered for her. "Thankfully there is an insanity defense."_

_Christine jerked forward. I saw a familiar look of horror in her eyes. Her hands pressed tightly against her mouth and for a moment I feared she would start to hyperventilate._

_"You're evil," she gasped after several strained breaths. "What you did to me," she hesitated, "What you did to my friend." She came to her feet abruptly. "I can't … I can't ..." Christine's coherency faded away due to her uncontrollably rising anger. The only warning I had was a flash from the depths of her vividly blue eyes before I felt a harsh blow against my cheek._

_I turned my head in the direction of the strike to minimize its effects. While Christine was far too weak to inflict any serious harm to my person, her slap had been enough to knock the mask from my face. I looked at its empty eyes staring back at me from the floor before snapping around to glare at her; to give her something to truly be afraid of._

_Her face didn't change as she viewed my ugly visage for the second time. Her lips were curled in a sneer and the small flash in her eyes had expanded into a terrible blue flame. Even my face could not frighten her now, not when she found something else in me that she considered even more repulsive. Consumed with a passionate fury, she did not turn away or give any indication that my face held any terror for her._

_"You deceived her! You lied to her! You pretended to be her Angel of Music!" Christine's hands were curling and uncurling at her sides, as if itching to reach out and do me further injury. And when you were done with your sick game, you abandoned her." She took a step forward, jabbing a single accusing finger in my direction. "You drove her mad!" she screeched, the cavernous walls ringing with the echoes of her denunciation. For the space of a moment there was no sound save for Christine's heavy and labored breaths as she struggled to regain her composure. Seeming to notice our sudden proximity, Christine withdrew her arm and retraced her step. She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm enough to finish her rant._

_"When you first called to me on the stage I didn't believe you. I didn't believe that you were simply a kind man who wanted to give me lessons. I thought that was a sick joke too!" She pressed her hands into fists and raised them above her head. "How right I was!" she howled, obviously losing the struggle against her rage. She didn't turn away. She gave no indication that she felt any terror looking at my face. She was consumed with a passionate fury. "What you did to my friend, I can never forgive you!"_

_She went to strike me again but this time I was alert. I stopped the assault before it could connect, using her captured wrists to pull Christine in close. Now she finally gave a cry of fear as I bent, bringing my head down her pretty face._

_"Forgiveness?" I snorted incredulously, "Why should I expect forgiveness from a foolish girl like you? I have given you **everything** and yet you choose to be with that simple minded boy. You would destroy everything I have created, everything I have worked for to run off with your lover. You who have confessed your love to me on more than occasion."_

_I relaxed my grip for a moment and that was all Christine needed to make her move. Her right hand shot out, attempting once more to reach its target, but I caught it in my own and pressed both against the side of her head. I wanted to feel her skin against mine and let the soft tresses of her hair caress my fingertips. My lovely Christine. My angel. How she wounded me._

_"Shall we compare grievances, Christine? Who should be begging for forgiveness? Whose lies are more painful, yours or mine?" I released her now limp arm to bring my other hand up to trace the left side of her face. "You pretended to love me distantly, hesitantly, when you so happily gave yourself over to that boy in a moment." When my hand reached her chin I clasped it gently, drawing my thumb across her lips. I leaned in close, feeling our breaths mingle in the insufficient space between our mouths, and whispered, "Whose deception is the cruelest?"_

_In a moment of madness, I considered pressing my mouth against hers; kissing her while unmasked. In that kiss I would show Christine all the love I felt for her, my willingness to do anything for her, as well as my abject misery at seeing the Vicomte de Changy kiss her. I knew my attraction to Christine to be the natural desire of a man for a woman, one that, unfortunately, was shared by others. Other men who could dare to touch her, to kiss her—to violate her—because they were normal men born with normal faces. I, with my misshapen features, had never before even contemplated doing such with any woman, much less the angel that stood before me. Could I now take that step into forbidden territory? Could I mark Christine as mine in the most primitive way of the human race?_

_Christine sensed my hesitation and used it to her advantage as she squirmed out of my grasp, swiftly crossing to the other side of the room. Even at that distance I could see she was shaking with the aftereffects of our proximity._

_"What you did to me was bad enough, but Genny," she hesitated, puzzlement at my actions tonight clear on her face. "Why did you do it?"_

_How could she not understand my motives? Everything I did was for my angel. I shook my head at the necessity of explaining myself to Christine._

_"If you hadn't interfered, both of your rivals would have been eliminated tonight. The stage would have been yours, my love," I informed her._

_"I don't want it! Not like this!" she shouted back at me determination filled the gaze leveled at me. "And I won't let you hurt any of my friends anymore."_

_As I advanced unhurriedly across the room something in my expression must have unnerved her, for Christine dropped her defiant pose and retreated a step towards the wall behind her. For every step she took I added one of my own._

_"I will do what I must. I will eliminate anyone who tries to come between us," I gravely assured her, "especially your precious aristocrat."_

_Fresh tears followed as my words struck home. I didn't want to break her admirable spirit or frighten her further, but for a creature, such as I, it was unavoidable. Christine needed to learn not to force my hand. My resolve must have shown on my uncovered face as Christine's eyes widened in panic._

_"Don't you do anything to Raoul!" she threatened, attempting to regain control of the situation and her reemerging fear._

_"Raoul? Are you on such friendly terms with him. Tell me, Christine, do you love him?"_

_She ignored my taunts._

_"Stay away from him!" Christine was backed against the hard shelves of the bookcase against the wall, her hands pressed behind her as if she could move it to create more space. She turned her face away as I closed the distance between us._

_"Gladly," I hissed, "as long as you promise to do the same. Make no further attempts to see him. Do not try to deceive me again." By now I was almost upon her._

_Christine dropped her head in defeat. "I **have **tried! I haven't encouraged him. I've sent him away," she wailed, "all because I knew what you would have done."_

_Once again Christine demonstrated how noble she was. She had desperately tried to send her friends away, to get them to leave Paris in order to escape my wrath. She had put others before herself. But now that she had confessed all to her handsome lover, I knew he would not stay away. He would pursue her._

_That I would not allow._

_"Lies! If you try to see him again … if he tries to take you away from me," I spoke deliberately, letting each word stretch to hang ominously between us, "I **will** kill him."_

_Her head snapped up at this, eyes finally meeting mine in defiance. Her hand twitched, as if strike me again, but I saw the thought on her face and easily dodged her blow. Undeterred, Christine changed tactics. As her fingers brushed against the side of my head, she managed to twist them into my hair. Jerking me off balance, Christine pushed past me and ran into the kitchen. Regaining my balance, I stalked after her, stepping to the other side of the screen that separated the two rooms, the sound of rustling cutlery assaulting my ears._

_Christine turned, a large knife with the long steel blade pointed directly at me, in her hand. I stopped my advance. She too seemed uncertain as she glanced between me and the knife in her hand almost unsure of what to do now. Coming to a decision, her brow darkened. Standing there, glowering at me, with her coiffure undone and bits of blood still on her gloves and dress; she was like Electra, gone mad._

_"If you hurt any of my friends, Erik," she shouted triumphantly. She paused and in that moment I too stopped breathing. "I'll kill myself."_

_I barely stopped myself from dashing across the room to rip the knife from her fingers. "No, Christine!"_

_"I will!" She thrust the knife forward, as if to keep me at bay. The blade wavered in the air, following the pattern of hands that shook fiercely. It would only have taken me a few long strides to reach her. I could wrestle the knife out of her grip. It would be the swiftest maneuver, but the least gentle. I had no desire to cause her pain._

_Once again turning my reluctance to her advantage, Christine darted past me and swiftly up the stairs to her room, slamming the door just as I reached the threshold. I cursed, having promised I would never enter unless invited. I would not intrude now. She already thought me as a monster; no need to provide further proof._

_"Christine!" I called at her door. There was no answer. My hands ached to pound against the door, but I forced them to inaction. Not sure if her ultimatum was merely a calculated move or a legitimate threat, I remained unwilling to exasperate her actions, whatever they might be. Christine stood on the other side of the door, with a knife_

_"Christine, open the door," I pleaded instead, resting my face against the frame. The continued silence seeping under the door did nothing to settle my mounting anxiety. Instead, my breathing grew labored as I imagined Christine doing harm to herself while I did nothing but keep my word._

_"Open the door right this instant!" I bellowed, panicked. No response greeted my outburst. "Please, please open the door," I whispered, trying to regain control._

_My fragile attempts to remain calm shattered when I heard a cry of pain from the other side. Promise be damned, I was going in. I turned the handle and pushed at the door, a cry of rage escaping me as I realized something blocked my efforts. Determined to get in, I threw my entire weight against the obstruction. After two attempts something cracked and the door finally gave way._

_The remnants of a dainty faux bamboo chair lay scattered in the doorway and Christine stood before her dresser. She startled at my entry, turning to face me with wide eyes. And then I saw what had caused her to cry._

_A flash of color against pale skin drew my eyes to Christine's delicate wrists. The skin there shone crimson as small streams of blood trickled from a set of twin crisp wounds. Her body trembled violently, yet Christine's grip never faltered on the bloody weapon._

_"Give me the knife, Christine," I whispered. I shifted my weight, ready to wrest the blade from her once in range._

_Christine brought the knife around toward me quicker than I imagined her capable. She seemed unmoved by the horror inflicted upon herself; her rage focused solely on me._

_"Get away from me!" she shouted, brandishing her bloody blade to force me to comply._

_Despite the obvious threat in her tone I worried more for Christine's continued health than for my own. I could not leave her. I rushed forward, forgetting about the threat of the knife in her hand. When I grabbed hold of a bleeding wrist she cried out, shutting her eyes and shoving her free hand in a deliberate forward strike._

_I felt a flash of pain in my side. In that moment, my body and brain were consumed by a stinging pain. Once it has passed, I quickly altered my movements. I secured both of Christine's hands in one of my own before removing the blade and throwing it to the ground. The sound of it echoed through the room, mingling with Christine's cries of agony and failure. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and her eyes opened only to roll upwards a second later._

_Christine fainted into my awaiting arms._

* * *

><p>Note: I'm going to bump this up to a M rating-Just because the violence and tension is going to get pumped up a notch.<p>

Thanks again to avidreadercina for making sense of my word vomit!

And Thanks to all my readers and reviewers!


	26. Act Three: Chapter Two

Act Three: Faust

Chapter Two

As I returned to consciousness, I did not open my eyes, to some extent from disappointment that I had woken up at all. While still between true wakefulness and oblivion I tried to piece together the events that had led to such a state. I could recall broad moments with ease, but could not string them together coherently. A mad dash to my room, the flash of a knife against my flesh, endless pacing as if emotion could not be contained, and above all the sight of Erik crashing through my flimsy barricade.

Part of me was upset that I had fainted; the sinful, unnatural part of me wanted to see his panic, grief and hate and to relish the thought that I caused his suffering. The other part of me was thankful that I was not alert to see the pain in his eyes. If I saw his tears, I too would cry and that would be the end of me. I could never leave him then.

With my eyes still closed, I opened the fingers of my hand and felt about. I did not have to reach far before they came into contact with something hard. As my senses became alert I could feel that my body was being held against another, with one hand at my neck and another at the small of my back. The shared heat of our bodies warmed my cheeks. The scent of stale breath, the whiff of cologne and the strange metallic odor of blood assaulted my nose.

I opened my eyes and was not surprised to see that it was Erik who was clinging to me. He had brought me to the overstuffed armchair that resided in the corner of my room. My head rested against his shoulder, and his head had fallen forward almost covering mine. His mask was tilted to one side, exposing only a corner of one closed eye, and his hair lay disheveled against his forehead. Beneath the lower edge of his mask, the skin was slick and wet. One of my hands crept up to touch the liquid but I already knew what it was. Pressing two fingers against the top of his chin, I felt his tears brush against my flesh.

One of my fingers was halfway resting on his bottom lip and, out of some bizarre fascination, I moved it upward and pressed it over the rest of his lips.

Erik stirred and then sat upright, jerking us both forward. My hands were tossed back and both of our limbs became tangled in each other at the sudden movement. I managed to regain my composure and sat up straight, only to realize I was still sitting on Erik's lap. He looked up at me with a painful and pleading gaze.

"Christine."

I moved off of his lap and stood before him. A flash of red on my wrist caught my eye. It was not from blood, but the cuff of Erik's jacket. It had been torn off and the ragged edge still remained. I wriggled a finger underneath the fabric to find other layers of the cloth wound around my wrist. My eyes fell to the floor and noticed the garment of Red Death, now ravaged and ripped. I looked up to notice Erik's eyes staring at my wrist.

"I'm sorry. I didn't have any fresh bandages," he explained, as if that mattered.

I shook my head slowly, cursing myself for being so stupid. I wondered why I had really put the knife to my wrist. Did I only do it to threaten Erik? To scare him or hurt him? Or had I really wanted to end it all? Either choice was a childish one. No, I hadn't wanted to kill myself. If I truly did, I wouldn't have hesitated.

My eyes fell to Erik's form as we both looked at each other in uncomfortable silence. He was in his shirt sleeves, still wearing the scarlet trousers tucked into his black boots. But there was another splash of color that caught my eye, one that was out of place. On his left side a large reddish brown stain started at the front of his stomach and stretched around to his back.

I gasped and my hands flew to my face. I couldn't have …

_Tear at my heart … or I shall end my pain with a sword.  
><em>

In my madness I had stabbed him. I had threatened him before and to my complete amazement, I had remained true to my word. I fell to my knees and a harsh sob lept from my throat.

"My God! I've hurt you!" Erik fixed me with a stunned expression which gave way to one of embarrassment as I moved to his side and started to tug at his shirt.

"Christine!" he brought his hands down to mine, trying to gently lift them away. I would not let him. I instead I grasped his hands even tighter, pressed my head to his chest and started to cry.

"Please." I begged. I managed to pull myself away and then straighten legs to elevate my kneeling form. My fingers worked quick and pulled the ends of the shirt from under the waist band. I pushed up the stained fabric to examine the result of my attack. A wicked gash curved against pale skin of his side. Dried blood was spread around it, sticking to his flesh. The cut had begun to scab, but still looked red and raw to my untrained eye. I reached a finger to lightly touch at the wound and felt him flinch. My touch had been enough to break the scab and fresh blood started to pour once again from the spot.

"It's not deep," he explained.

My tears increased. I stood up and went to the wash basin on my dresser. I saw the surface was wet with small puddles of water. The water in the basin was already murky with blood. The pitcher nearby still contained fresh water. I reached into one of the drawers and withdrew a handful of delicate lace handkerchiefs. I balled up the cloth in my fist and submerged it into the pitcher. After dipping them in water, I returned to Erik's side and without another word began to clean the wound to the best of my abilities.

We did not need to speak. Within the silence we expressed our regrets to each other. I pressed the damp cloth along the length of the gash to stop any further bleeding, all the while biting my lip and shaking my head. I cursed Erik and I cursed myself in turn. I had harmed him while he, even in his anger, had not sought to inflict any pain on my person. He could have easily knocked me unconscious and carried me back to his home. He did not. Now because of my stupid actions he had given me another reason I could not leave him. The guilt of what I had done wouldn't leave me. I washed his stained skin of his torso, ignoring the incredibly awkward position I was placing us both in. Erik's hands hovered above mine, desperately wanting to stop me.I felt his flesh pulse under my fingertips with each inhale of breath.

I returned to my dresser and looked for something suitable to use as a bandage. I flung aside useless corsets, underpinnings and gloves until I happened on a collection of scarves tucked deep inside a drawer. I withdrew a long cream colored one and rushed to chair. I knelt before Erik and reached for the buttons on his shirt.  
>His hands shot out like a cat pouncing on a mouse to stop me. "Christine, don't."<p>

I struggled against him. "Erik. Please you're hurt. You're bleeding." I wrung the scarf in my hands, desperate to bind it to his body. "I've hurt you. I-I c-could have killed you! It's all-all my fault." I was stuttering like a pitiful fool. I managed to push his hands away. I tugged his shirt upward to expose his stomach and started to slip the scarf around his back.

Erik pressed a finger to my lips. Our eyes met. I could only imagine how wretched I must have looked to him, red faced and blubbering. The finger pressed on my lips was trembling along with the rest of him.

"Oh, my Christine," he whispered, leaning forward. With shaking lips he pressed a kiss to my forehead. His other hand came to the back of my head and pressed me forward with such intensity. We both quivered and cried together as if in some strange and sorrowful duet. I brought my hand up to grasp the folds of his shirt to pull him closer.

Erik's tears were stronger than any chain and once again they had bound me to him.

* * *

><p>Erik left the house to fetch bandages despite my protests. When he returned he, as before, cleaned the cuts on my wrist. Thankfully I had not done much damage to myself or Erik. My strikes were wild and produced a fair amount of blood, but not lethal. I was lucky. I tried to recall if I had fainted from the sight of blood or at the moment when I had struck.<p>

Erik retreated to his rooms to dress his wounds. I changed out of my stained ball gown and into a simple frock. When he reemerged, I was at a loss as to what to say to him. I sat in one of the long chaises and curled up against its plush cushions. I stayed like that for hours it seemed. Erik had brought me food and tea which I refused.  
>I was drained. Not sleepy or tired, just completely emotionless and stiff. Not good for anything but lying like a discarded doll on the furniture. I tried to think of what I would do next but my mind drew a blank. We waited that long stretch of time in silence. I think we both contemplated what reality awaited us in the word above. We didn't want to face it. Perhaps it would have been better to remained entombed in this strange house, as if already dead.<p>

My thoughts turned to Genny and I worried for my friend. What would happen to her? I remembered what Erik had said the night before and feared she had already confessed. She could already be in a mad house for all I knew. And what would I say to her if she didn't acknowledge her crime. What could I say? I knew I would have to return to the opera within the next few days or rouse suspicion once more. I bit my fingers in reckless frustration at the thought. If I told the truth of what happened, I would be suspected and charged. That is if anyone believed my story in the first place for surely they would probably think me mad.

I wondered which was worse, the asylum or staying here with Erik where I would eventually be driven into madness.

With a look of concern on his face, Erik once again tried to get me to eat something. He sat beside me on the chaise and silently offered me the plate of food he had prepared. I looked at it without interest.

"No, thank you," I offered so I wouldn't sound so rude.

He sighed and then offered me a cup. "At least drink this," he said, exasperated. "You haven't had anything to drink or eat all day. You need your fluids." And then I noticed he reached for a second cup that I had not seen before. He raised it up as if in a toast before bringing it to his lips for a drink. The smell of the warm tea reached my nose, inviting me to drink with its earthy herbal scent. I brought it to my lips and took a relaxing drink. Erik glanced in my direction, a look of approval in his eyes. He nestled his cup between hands and rested them on his lap.

His eyes focused on my new bandaged wrists which rested beside him. "How is," he started but cut off his own words by biting his lip. His eyes close and when they reopened, a look of anger flash over them, but only for a moment. "Is staying here with me really so terrible?" he asked. Pain filled his voice. I had tried to kill myself rather than live with him. He didn't speak this accusation out loud but I heard it in his tone.

I didn't answer.

"Please, Christine, say something," he pleaded. His hand left his lap and rested over my bandaged arm. I glanced at it before turning to look up at him. His eyes widened and he removed his hand quickly as if he had been burned. Struck by a sudden realization that left me stunned, I recognized that Erik and I were afraid of one another. I feared Erik's wrath and what he would do to me if I angered him to the point of insanity, but Erik was just afraid of my rejection. Any shudder or sigh frightened him as he assumed my disgust for him caused such action. He wept over me and cared for me, only to curse himself later for daring to touch me.  
>How could love come out of such fear?<p>

He stood up and started to pace. "Surely your life before was no different than your life with me now, if you stop to think about it. You were bound by duty. You stayed home and cared for an old woman, never going out, never living. You came here only work for others," he pointed out each item as if defending me in a trial. "You had such a gift, such a talent that you kept inside. You didn't have a chance to show it because you devoted yourself to others." Erik's eyes narrowed. "Others who were unworthy of your attention," he hissed out the last phrase.

His whole body shifted with a deep sigh. "I brought your talent to its greatest heights. I wanted to let you live the life you deserved. You needed to spend your time for your own sake and not at the whim of those who would see you in servitude all your days. You needed to thrive" his voice rose passionately. He stopped for a moment to compose himself. "Bring into existence all that I cannot. Through you, my music could flourish. You would shine and I could be content to watch from the shadows. You deserve that Christine and more than I could ever give you." He fell to his knees, staring with pleading eyes. A tentative hand reached for my feet, just touching the hem of my dress.

"All I ask in return is that you stay with me. Yes, I know it is cruel of me to ask. To have you return to me, to shut yourself away. But you've done it before. You've done it out of compassion for your loved ones. I only hope I could be so fortunate. And you would have to care for me. Just spare for me a sliver of kindness and compassion you have shown to others. I will give you everything you need, ever your devoted servant. I ask so little in return." His fingers curled around the fabric of my dress. "Just stay with me."

He had not demanded my love, only my companionship, but this was impossible. Perhaps in his passion and devotion, he was ignoring the fact that I could not continue to live between two worlds. I could not be the sublime opera star he wanted me to be. That was a world filled with light, but a life with Erik would be destined for darkness. I couldn't tell him this. I couldn't think of a way to sever the ties between us without destroying him.

Rejection would kill him quicker than any physical stab.

"Erik," I started, "I feel so torn. You want me to be a star. To live for music and for the limelight, and yet at the same time you want me to stay here with you. To live two separate lives is just not possible, not for long. I'm already tired of doing so." I looked down at him, still groveling at my feet. My chest tightened in my struggle to bring my point across gently. "I find it especially difficult to live …"

"In darkness. You hate living in darkness with me," he answered for me bitterly. "But, Christine, don't all humans need both light and darkness to survive?"

"But these are extremes. I am not as strong as you think I am. I cannot live in such a world of conflicts! What good is life down here with no joy or music?" I challenged and felt myself crying. "And what is music, up there on the stage, without you?"

At this he turned his head up to look at me, holding his breath and going still. It was true. Erik had inspired my voice and I could not try to sing if I did not do so for him. Without him there would be no darkness, no fear. Without him there would be no passion for music. Without him what good would I be as an opera singer. My two choices collided against each other, but could not be separated. I was trapped.

Erik was waiting for me to say more. Eager to hear any confession I made, but I turned away and pressed my face in my elbow. . I could hear Erik rise to his feet and move to sit beside me. He pressed a gentle hand against my shoulder.

"Please, don't cry. Christine, forgive me, but please don't cry."

I went to wipe my face with my hand and made my best attempt to stop my tears flowing. If I left Erik, I would be safe and I would be free. But I knew in my heart that without him I would be empty.

"Tell me, where would you like to go? Christine, tell me where you would want to be? I'll take you there if it would make you happy," he offered.

Obviously his promise included the stipulation that where ever I went, he would be with me. I thought of Raoul then. I wondered if he was just as frightened as me, wondering what was going to happen. I desperately wanted to be with my friends, but Erik would never let me. It was the one thing in his power he wouldn't grant. Again my thoughts turned back to the depressing wish I had nurtured for many months; that everything could go back the way it was. Before Erik had taken me or perhaps even better for us all, before I had met him. I could be back in my life before the opera and Madame would still be alive.

I pressed my fingers together hard at another thought. Frederich would still be alive, and I would have no avenging maestro to protect me. I sighed and pressed my head into the back of the chaise.

I knew where I wanted to be.

"Erik, I know where we can go," I started to say. He looked at me surprised as if he had not expected me to answer. "Could we go back to the music room?" I asked.

"The music room?"

I cracked a smile and it was genuine. "Where you first taught me to sing."

* * *

><p>Even though I knew that dozens of artists lived in the opera dormitories, the building was eerie still at night, as if no souls had ever existed inside this great edifice. Erik pulled me along the shadowed path that lead backstage to the strange staircase. I recalled our first lesson when he treated me with such quiet formality, offering me his arm and holding the door for me. I wondered if even back then he had been in love with me.<p>

The room was as I remembered it. The large mirrors covering one wall made the relatively small room seem like a great expanse. Erik had wanted to take me to a place where I would be happy and truly I had spent many joyous hours in this room. Even after being awake all day and spending most of it on my feet working, I had always looked forward to my music lessons. Now that I thought back on it, my excitement did not come from the anticipation of improving my voice. My daring dream of being an opera singer was only a small part of my motivation. My true motivation was to spend time with my maestro. The way we had spoken then and careful manner in which he taught me. I had friends and I had music, but they were nothing like what I shared with him. Up in this private room, we had created our own world of music where we retreated like a pair of overexcited children.

The notes of the piano broke through my thoughts. I turned to see Erik seated in his customary place. A small half smile formed on his face. "A little dusty," he noted, brushing the keys. From behind his cloak, he withdrew a bag from which he removed a folio of music he had stashed away. He opened it and laid it on the stand.

"Do you know Faust?" he asked.

"I know of it. I know the story. I've read Goethe," I explained.

"But not the music?"

"No, I've never seen it performed," I admitted. When I was a teenager, my father had started to introduce me to the world of opera. Before then, I only knew what Genny had told me. My education in opera had been cut short by his death.

"Then you have such pleasure ahead of you," he said. In the middle of the folio were some loose sheets which he handed to me.

"Am I going to sing?" I asked.

"You wanted to go someplace that makes you happy. If this is the place then we must do as we did before." He directed his gaze squarely at me. "We must fill it with music. Also, it would make me very happy if you would sing this with me."

My eyes flew down to the sheets in my hand. There were two vocal lines on the page. It was indeed a duet. My heart skipped at the thought of Erik singing to me. It had thrilled me before but I had sadly not heard him sing since before he had abducted me.I was afraid to admit to him how much I loved it.

"Shall we?"

"Yes," I replied in a barely contained voice.

A quick rhythm of rising and falling notes preceded my faltering entrance.

"_It's very late! Good night_."

"_Must I implore in vain? Oh stay. Let me but hold your dear hand in my own_." Erik's voice filled the room. It was soft, but powerful in his expression of the music. I held my breath and listened.

"_Blessed love, blessed love. Let me marvel in rapture . Let me gaze on your face lost in wonder, as the pale moon above shines through the dark of the night. From the starry heaven yonder, caressing caressing you my love._"

Rapture filled my senses to the point of pain, knowing that this elegance came from Erik. As ugly and twisted as he was, the beauty of his voice could lead anyone to believe him the Angel of Music. Poor Genny had stood no chance.

A note _plinked_ repeatedly and Erik was looking at me eagerly. I blushed and looked down to see it was once again my line.

"_Blessed silence, joy unknown. How sublime is your mystery! Joy unknown, how sublime is your mystery! By your spell, I am bound, I hear a magic sound one sweet voice so beguiling, enchanting, enchanting, enchanting all my heart!_"

I gasped for breath at the end. Truer words could not have been spoken or sung. Erik's mystery and music had drawn me to him, and now, like strings on a puppet, they kept me bound to him and his desires. His eyes were bright as he looked at me, obviously delighted. I returned my eyes to my music.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"Ah," Erik said with a grin. "Marguerite pulls away from her mysterious lover to play a game,with a flower" I took a step back towards the piano so I stood on the opposite side of the instrument. "The one foolish little girls tend to play."

"She pulls the petal off?" I offered not believing something as simple and childish would have a place in such an opera.

"I'm afraid you would be the expert on that behavior Christine. I've never indulged in such an activity."

This made me laugh slightly and I was glad, for it broke our tense moment. I started again, adding a joyful tone to my voice.

"_Now I must ask a favor..._"

"_Won't you say?_"

"_A simple game! Don't look, it won't take long._"

"_What is it that you are whispering?_"

Erik stood, leaning his chest over the piano and looking directly at me. The music still played on.

"_He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me!_"

"_Yes believe in this word, the flower tells you true!_" He leaned over and placed a hand upon my cheek. I, in turn, moved closer to his touch. The notes from the piano stopped, but Erik continued singing.

"_What your own heart has heard must be the voice of heaven. He loves you! Do you know what happiness it means_?"

He left the piano, his hand falling from my face momentarily as he rounded the instrument to directly face me. One hand returned to its caress of my cheek while his other reached out to rest lightly on my waist. He did not pull me into a full embrace, but it was close enough.

He continued singing with fanatic passion. "_To love, to know the flame that will bind two souls together, and bring ecstatic joy to our hearts...never-ending._"

The hand at my waist pulled me closer, while the one on my face moved to fall across my throat. It hesitated only a moment before dropping to brush against my collarbones and land against my rapidly beating heart. I clutched my music tighter to keep from moving. Erik drew a harsh breath as he closed his eyes on the anguish swimming in their depths.

"Oh, Christine, if only it could be true," he whispered, his returned gaze focused. His eyes left my face for a moment, glancing at the music in my grip. "Together then," he commanded, once again the unattached music teacher. The hand that pressed against my breastbone spread itself as if to feel the pulse, the breath, the essence of music coming from me.

"_Never ending, never ending …_"

"O_h night of love, oh radiant sky! Oh sweet surrender! Love's delight, sweet and serene pour in our hearts you joys in all their splendor." _The more he sang the harder it became to separate the damned Faust from Erik who still held me tight with one arm_. "You are my love, my life, my own, I adore you. My heart is yours. I adore you. I live for you alone."  
><em>

The intensity of his music which had at first delighted me was now starting to unnerve me. In truth it was frightening me. I dropped the music in my hand. I did not want to know what came next.

"No more," I whispered and felt my whole body shake along with my voice. I pressed a hand against his chest and he took a step backward, allowing me to break our embrace. I took a few steps away from him and crossed my arms. I withdrew within myself, afraid of what was to come. Erik had taken great consideration in selecting this duet and I was turning him away. I couldn't even face him.

The notes of the piano reached my ear. "_My dear beloved, please do not break my heart_." Erik would not be put off by my childish refusal. He would finish the song, without me.

"Please stop," I begged. My feet stumbled over the music I had dropped on the floor. Surely he could see what he was doing to me. All my rational thoughts were being destroyed as I listened.

"_My love you ask that I should leave you? See my despair my love, see my despair, Marguerite…_"

I placed my hands over my ears. This should have been one of the most sublime moments of my life, but everything was working against us. Though his passionate words poured over me, I worked to drown them out, to destroy them, with thoughts revealing his true self.

_He's a madman ... and a murderer.  
><em>

And yet he had such possessive power over me.

"Christine!" he called to me. The music stopped and Erik reached a hand across the piano towards me. The look in his eyes was not one of anger or even affection, but one of pain as he grasped the open air between us. For a moment, the room was completely silent, save only for the sound of our breathing. Then, half whispered, Erik finished the music. "_You are breaking, you are breaking my heart. Let me stay ..._"

I pressed my hands against my breast and felt my heart pounding against my rib cage. Erik closed his eyes and I saw his head drop. I had to say something. "Erik, I'm sorry, but I was frightened," I explained.

He didn't look at me as he spoke. "What are you afraid of? Me?" he asked in a morose tone.

I shook my head. "No, I was afraid of hurting you, and I have." Tears escaped my eyes against my wishes.

Despite the challenges Erik presented, I did love him, and these difficulties, these abnormalities, made our love impossible. He had kidnapped me, taken me from my friends and family, tormented people to the point of madness, and murdered for me. I feared that in his obsessive pursuit, I would become no more than a pawn to him, an object he could command at will. I would not do his bidding if it caused harm to others and I feared that in Erik's logic, there was no other way to get what he wanted. He would use intimidation and fear to get what wanted, and he would use me. Of that I was sure.

Yet, as I reflected on this, I could not take my eyes from the broken man that stood over the piano. Erik was not some faceless horror that I feared, he was a man whose feelings I had already damaged. My guilt and my compassion for him kept me chained to him.

I was lost.

I could see no way out.

"I was afraid, of hurting you," I repeated. I waited with baited breath for a response. I did not think he would believe me. Erik surely did not trust me if he knew that I wanted to be free of him. He came towards me and stopped only to pick up the fallen sheets of music. He scanned them and then held them out to me, his finger pointing to a spot on the page. I took them from him and timidly looked at what he had wanted me to see.

My missed lines.

_Ah no more! Ah no more! I am frightened._

I found a new comparison for Erik, sure that he recognized it too. Why else would he have chosen this song? He was Faust, a tortured man longing for something he could never have. Even if he earned her love, he wouldn't be allowed to keep her. I was Marguerite, the innocent girl who would allow herself to fall in love with a dangerous man, ignoring the consequences.

"Christine," he started, "I want you to know that you didn't hurt me," he sighed. "I have been hurt so many times before that I suppose I am immune to such petty emotions." He took his hand and clasped mine. "But if you left me, you would break my heart." His lips curled to resemble a sad smile. "I don't know what would become of me if I lost so vital an organ to love."

* * *

><p>And the Oscar for charmingly manipulating someone to stay in a relationship with them goes to…<p>

Oh Erik you're just 6'4"tower of pure sadness and crazy… (and I love your for it)

Sorry for the cliffhanger! (You didn't think I was going to kill them off _this soon_?) I will say I was pleasantly surprised by your comments. I thought the last chapter was very 'girl power' for Christine, taking a stance, fighting back (literally) against Erik and all his insanity. I was rooting for her. But you guys certainly did not gel with the idea of Christine causing any harm to our dear Opera Ghost.

Fan girls be fan-girling

Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Love you all and sorry for the wait.

Italics indicate sung words. From the duet ("_Il se fairard..._") from Charles Gounod's Faust, Libretto by Michel Carre and Jules Barbier-from the poem by Goethe


	27. Act Three: Chapter Three

Chapter Three

I had to do something. As easy as it was to sit and ignore my problems, I would be forced to act soon.  
>The problem was I didn't have the slightest idea on what I would do.<p>

Despite my feelings for Erik, I knew I would have to leave him. My motivation did not solely come from my affections for Raoul, or my concern for others. For it had been my concern and worry for the safety of my friends in the opera house that I had stayed with Erik for so long.

I knew the consequences that lay ahead of my decision to either leave or stay. I had stayed for much longer than I should have. I realized that it had been grief, panic and uncertainty that had caused me to rashly agree to live with Erik in the first place. But now reason was dawning on me, like the sunrise finally coming into view on a thick foggy morning.

We would destroy each other.

Erik had already kissed me and I had willingly returned his physical affections. I had given him enough opportunities to feel tempted. I slept in an unlocked room in his own home and only his powerful will stopped him from crossing the threshold. We had foolishly confessed our love to each other and I knew that Erik's love for me had already driven him into madness. This madness would soon come to claim me. And it was only a matter of time before Erik's desire overcame him and his basic instinct would put my virtue in serious jeopardy.

Once I left him, I would then be faced with the stigma that would follow my choice. It would be discovered that I had lived with a man who was neither my husband nor guardian for several months. I would be shamed.

Despite the terrible reality I would face, it would be worth it, if I could escape.

The next morning, I decided to make my way back to the opera house. I summoned up my courage to tell Erik I was going out and he looked at me dismissively.

"You may come and go as you please, Christine." He informed me. His tone was indifferent but I could sense his true feelings. On the contrary to his insane nature, Erik felt himself completely in control, and as long as I feared him, he would _remain_ in control. He would slowly break me until all of my resistance had fled. Only time could tell how long that would take, which made the urgency to get away more pressing.

I quickly made my way to the passages that lead up to the door on the Rue Scribe. Winter was truly upon Paris and the frigid wind snuck up under my cloak and assaulted my neck. I could imagine Raoul in that moment, smiling and laughing and asking "Christine Daae, where is your scarf?"

My dear friend. How I regretted having dragged him into this hell. He must still be in such shock after what had happened. The uncertainty of what had transpired in the de Chagny carriage after our hasty exit from the ball troubled me. I sent up a silent prayer for my friends before I opened the main entrance to the building and stepped inside.

The solemn silence served as a reminder of the terrible events that had transpired in these halls. The image of Carlotta lying lifeless on the floor flashed before my eyes and I shuddered. I was not denying that Carlotta was a cruel woman. She had even inspired hatred in me, a feeling that I felt shocked and shamed to have. But she did not deserve to die in such a manner. No one did.

I could no longer trust my best friend. I was unsure if I would now have to treat Genny as a victim or as a predator. I admitted to myself that things would probably end up best for us all if she did go truly insane and was sent to an asylum. At least she would be safe. I dared not speak to anyone else or ask for help for fear of putting them at danger. If I attempted to contact Raoul, I would forfeit his life. With my allies and options dwindling at every moment, I felt all hope fleeing from me with every step. For I was certain that even now Erik was only a few steps behind me, watching and following my every turn.

Then I thought of one last chance; the mysterious Persian who had managed to pull me away the night of the masque. Now that I took the time to stop and think, I was impressed that he had been able to not only maneuver me out of Erik's grasp, but he had also allowed me to escape to the roof. I barely knew this man but he apparently knew a great deal about me. He knew that I had been with kept in the house by the lake. He also seemed aware of the consequences if anyone tried to take me away from Erik by force.

Raoul had mentioned that he was a police inspector. Perhaps he was my only hope.

I walked quicker, determined to cover every inch of the opera in hopes of seeing him. I made my way up the stairs and turned towards the hallways leading to the upper foyer. I had unwillingly walked in the same path a few nights ago when I had left Raoul and when I had been forced to gaze upon the scene of Carlotta's murder. Half a dozen officers of the Sûreté stood milling in the hallway and one of them spotted me; a concerned frown was covering his face.

"Mademoiselle, the opera is closed." He informed me. He walked forward and took my arm. "You'll need to leave." He started to guide me back the way I came.

"I'm looking for someone…" I managed to sputter out an excuse. "An inspector…"

"I'm sorry mademoiselle, but you have no business being here right now. Please." He informed me, the annoyance in his voice rising with each word.

"You don't understand. I need help. I need…" I pleaded. He was now using gentle force to pull me along the hallway as I stubbornly refused to let move away.

"Yes you do need help, Mademoiselle Daae." A voice called from behind us. Both the young officer and I turned simultaneously towards the direction of the voice. It came from a tall man in a crisp uniform, whose voice and face were familiar to me. I was looking for an inspector and I found one. Unfortunately it was not the one I was seeking.

"And we also need your help." Inspector Durand strolled up to us and I felt the hand fall away from my arm as the officer brought it sharply down to his side. With one stern look from his superior officer, the man slunk away back towards his comrades. Durand then focused his attention on me. "May I speak with you Mlle. Daae?" He asked, then glanced from side to side suspiciously. "That is if your gentleman friend doesn't object."

My heart nearly leapt in my throat. What did he know...about Erik? "W-Who?" I barely managed to cough up.

He grinned, dispelling his serious attitude for the moment. "Your young Vicomte, of course." he said. "The last time we spoke, he was very...defensive. And I have to ask you some questions that I hope won't disturb you, and I wouldn't want to deal with any of his outbursts."

Blood rushed to my cheeks, remembering our first meeting that had resulted in my fainting and Raoul swearing at the inspector. "The Vicomte and I are only friends..." I stammered.

He held up a hand dismissively. "Don't worry, mademoiselle. I'm not really concerned with people's personal affairs. My only concern is the public safety...and right now I am very much concerned about yours." His voice had now drifted back to the stern tone of a policeman. "Were you at the masque the night the murder occurred? I assume you have at least heard of it?"

I nodded. "I was there, Inspector."

"Did you see what happened? Did you see anything unusual?" he prodded. I shook my head no. "What were you doing exactly on that night?"

I tried to keep my voice as leveled as possible, even though I could feel my fingertips shaking, the tremors reaching up towards my throat. "I arrived late to the party, after the performance. I had one dance before I stepped outside for some air. It was very crowded, Inspector."

I watched Inspector Durand's teeth grab at his bottom lip and pull on it slowly in thought. "Were you with anyone that night? I mean, did you have an escort or even anyone you knew...underneath their masks."

To lie and say I was with no one would seem too suspicious, even to me. "I was with the de Chagny family." It was the truth. "I came to the party alone, but when I stepped outside I recognized the Vicomte and his younger sister, who of course I know from the opera." I felt very proud of myself in that moment. If Inspector Durand did question Raoul about my whereabouts that night, I was confident Raoul would confirm my 'little lie' to protect us. "I'm very close to Raoul and Genevieve de Chagny. We were childhood friends." I noticed the inspector raise an eyebrow as I mentioned Raoul again. "We were outside when we heard the commotion inside. The Vicomte summoned his carriage...it was clear in a few moments that it would not be wise to return inside with everyone rushing out. They drove me home and I haven't seen them since." I took a moment to catch my breath, praying that the Inspector believed my story.

He nodded slowly. Behind his shoulder I could still see the officers scurrying about like mice looking for scraps. Some had small notebooks and were jotting down unknown words at a furious pace. Unlike them, Durand hadn't bothered to record any evidence I had provided on paper. "Are they going to close the opera, Inspector?" I asked after a tense moment of silence between us.

His voice was gruff. "I think that is the least of your problems right now Mlle. Daae." he informed me. "I must be frank with you. When I examined the corpse of Madame Carlotta, I noticed something. Something that I had seen before and had dismissed as coincidence, but not after the other night." he looked around, concerned. "You need to hear this, but I am afraid of upsetting you. Would you like me to find you a chair so you can sit?"

I shook my head. I was sure no chair would help by now.

"I have seen this handiwork before. I tried not to keep track of how many times until recently. Men and women die every day in Paris. I have seen far too many deaths. But I've noticed something about Carlotta that reminded me of the body of M. Valerius. Both persons were attacked with such gruesome force and had similar wounds. It also reminded me of something I had seen in my youth, when I first joined the force." he clasped his hands together. "There were a series of murders all around my district. It was strange to have so many at any given time, especially in this district around the opera. The victims were dispatched in similar style, which lead us to believe they were the work of the same person. But as we started to gather clues, the murders stopped."

I leaned back against one of the marble rains, grasping it, white knuckled. I was no longer acting and held my breath waiting for what came next

"The victims were brutally stabbed...but there was something else. They had wounds all over their bodies, particularly on the face. Each was finished off with a cut throat. Many of my fellow officers believed it was the work of some mad devil that would cut men's throats and then go into a frenzy. However I had a theory that the stab wounds were done deliberately before the murderer ended their lives. He wanted to make them suffer."

"He?" I blurted out.

"Yes it had to be a man. The victims were men, large ones. And in the morgue we noticed burns and marks under the throat, under the lacerations. From a rope. I thought the murderer must have garroted the victim to the point of unconsciousness, in order to overpower them. Only a man could have such strength."

As he spoke, the faint hope dawned again in my mind, that Genny wasn't responsible for Carlotta's murder. She couldn't have overpowered her without help.

"When I saw M. Valerius, I had a dreadful feeling that it was the work of the same killer I had pursued years ago. Upon seeing the prima donna..." he paused and I noticed a trickle of sweat had formed on his brow, running from under his uniform hat. "I had no doubt that it was the same man. The wounds were nearly identical, designed to slowly bleed a person to death..." he stopped, wiping the perspiration with the back of his hand.

I wasn't sweating, but my heart was crashing against my rib cage, and beneath the skirt of my dress, I knew my knees were shaking so much they almost knocked into each other. I faced two terrible truths. Either Erik had murdered Carlotta himself, leaving Genny to take the blame or worse; he had instructed her on how to end the diva's life, guiding each stroke of the blade like a conductor leading his orchestra.

Now I did feel sick, just as before. But I forced myself to stand as straight as I could and not look too worried.

"The reason I'm telling you this is that I have a very strong suspicion that this murderer might somehow be connected to you." Durand continued. "I'm not accusing you, Mlle. Daae, but I can't ignore the fact that you have been in some way connected to these victims. Maybe it's nothing, or maybe it's a serious threat to your safety, because you share a connection to the latest victims." I could read right past his words. He did suspect me of something and he did think I was in danger.

How right he was.

He brought his hands to mine and grasped one of them. Holding it in front of his face, he once again pulled on his bottom lip with his teeth. "Help me catch this person… If you know anything of who he might be, if you even suspect anyone you are with...even if it might be your closest friend." he pleaded. He squeezed my hand, and for all of his cynical attitudes that came with his responsibilities as an officer of the law, I could feel the sincerity in his touch. "Or stay away from the opera...and keep yourself out of danger."

I loathed my secrets and the twisted reality I kept locked inside my mind. If I left the opera...everyone would be in danger.

He bowed his head over my hand before releasing it. "Now I will have to insist you leave. The opera will be closed while we try to catch this fiend." He turned and walked away. I headed obediently back down the main stairs, determined to slip to the stage once I was out of sight. My boots tapped lightly on the steps as I slowly walked. Then I froze mid step. My fingers curled into fists as the meaning of the inspector's words dawned on me.

_Even if it might be your closest friend._

He suspected Raoul! I now saw the intention behind his words like a veil lifted from my eyes. He was the friend. Raoul had given the Inspector plenty of reasons to dislike him in their first meeting with how brashly he had acted. I knew it was only his love for me that drove him to act like that, but perhaps the Inspector had seen it as something else entirely. If he discovered what horrible things Frederich had done to me and how cruel Carlotta had acted towards me and Genny, under the right circumstances, everything could point to Raoul.

I pressed my nails into my hand so tightly that they started to bruise my palm, and in that moment I cursed Erik with all my heart. He was indeed the conductor behind all of this. I could feel the wet sting of tears welling at the corners of my eyes. I wiped at them as I descended the stairs rapidly, not caring who saw me. Despite my weeping, I didn't stop again as I turned the corner and made my way towards the stage area.

Before, I had no idea what to do. Now my mind was assaulted with hundreds of ideas. I wanted to stop my course and run the other way. Out of the opera and into the street. I would run as fast as my legs could carry me away from this place. I could turn around and plead to Inspector Durand, confess everything and beg for his protection. I wasn't sure if he and his men would have the brains or strength to track down Erik and bring him to justice, since he had apparently eluded them in the past.

I recalled my frustrations of before. If I confessed, I would be an accomplice to murder. I would be arrested and sent to jail. I even feared being locked away in an asylum. Now in one fleeting thought of madness, I reasoned it would be better to be locked away. Behind real prison bars I would be safe from Erik, and Raoul and Genny would be free of any blame.

I could imagine a pair of cold metal handcuffs on my wrists already, but the thought didn't frighten me. It exhilarated me. I turned around to head back towards the foyer, determination leading every step.

I was stopped by the figure of a man, and my pace was so quick that I couldn't slow down and I succeeded in bumping into him in the most ungraceful manner. He caught me by the elbow as my body leaned forward and my eyes closed. A panic swept through me as I thought that I had once again been caught by Erik.

"Christine Daae." The voice that issued from the man who held me up was not Erik. My eyes flashed open to reveal the face of the mysterious Persian. There was no mistaking his identity now that I saw him without his mask. He wore a bowler hat, but underneath it he had fashioned a maroon cloth to cover his hair and part of his earlobes. A set of dark brows rested underneath his head-covering and below them, a pair of brilliant emerald eyes.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you, although I am sure you are used to that by now." He explained. I pulled myself up out of his grasp and brushed my tear stained cheek with the back of my hand. "Where were you going?" he asked.

"I'm going mad." I whispered and sniffled, despite my best efforts to control myself. "That's where I am going."

"Please, do not be upset. I know that is a lot to ask of you, especially after all you have been through. You must listen to what I have to say. You must trust me. I'm here to help you." He instructed. His words were calm and measured, but even in my distraught state I could hear the intensity behind them.

"I don't think anyone can help me now, sir. Even you." I admitted.

"I beg you not to give up, mademoiselle." He pleaded. "I have been trying for the past few months to secure your freedom, but with little success." His words interested me.

"What do you mean?" The fingers of my hands that were lying slack against my dress now curled into fists, pressing the fabric roughly into my palms. If what he had told Raoul was true, if he claimed that he was supposed to be helping me, why had he waited for so long? Why was it only now that I was learning of his presence? I didn't want to believe him. "How do you know about me? How do you know about Erik? Tell me!" I hissed.

He put out his hands in front of his chest to calm me. He was wise enough not to reach out and touch me in that moment. "I will not try to pacify you Mademoiselle. Or tell you not to be upset. You have every right to be upset at me and my failures. I had hoped the night of the masque ball you and the Vicomte would be able to escape in the crowd, but I was mistaken. I underestimated Erik's determination once again and now I think we all know what he will do if you try to leave the opera."

I nodded grimly. "I have known Erik for many years." He continued. "I have seen him do horrible deeds, but even I would not think he would stoop this low. I have been observing him from the shadows just as he has been watching you. Once you disappeared, I had no doubt as to where you had gone." He looked around us both with a distrustful glance, before taking a few steps backwards into the corridor. I followed him till the point that the light from the gas lamp left both of our faces. "Erik and I were once friends, but certain circumstances drove us apart. His actions and my faithful devotion to him lead to me being banished from my country. I discovered he had settled in Paris and I learned of his house in the cellars, but I kept my distance. "

His eyes kept me captivated as he spoke. I looked into their depths and wondered of the untold story behind them. "I would never have thought Erik would be driven to hold someone prisoner against their will. Not after the fact that he had been subjected to the same cruel fate many times before."

I recalled the frightening conversation between Erik and me in the carriage; about the _cage_. "It was then I had to act, and I discovered the passage to the underground through your dressing room mirror. I managed to avoid the traps I had anticipated would be left for me, but once I reached the lake I was unsuccessful in crossing it. My stealth did not go undetected and it almost cost me my life." I watched as one of his hands reached up to touch his neck.

"He tried to kill you." I filled in the blank left by his silence. "I thought you said you and Erik were friends? Why would he try to kill you?"

"Because I interfered. Erik needs no other reason than that...according to his logic. I tried to take you away from him." He let his hand fall away from his neck with a sigh. "Apparently our friendship is obsolete now. I can now be counted as one of his enemies and the same fate awaits anyone else who tries to separate you two."

"Then what is to be done?" I asked, but I didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Nothing. I don't think you can help me now sir. I've already made up my mind. Now if you'll excuse me." I moved to walk past him, but he stopped me, grasping my wrist firmly.

"What exactly are you planning to do?" he scolded me.

"I'm going to confess to the murder of La Carlotta. I'm going to have the police throw me in jail or the mad house. I don't care at this point!" My voice wavered as it rose in volume. "Either way, I'll be away from Erik and no one else will get hurt because of me. It's the only way I can stop this madness."

"You are still quite naïve, young lady." My words seemed to have no effect on him as his reprimanding tone only increased. "Do you think that will stop Erik? You should know full well the depth of his obsession for you," His dark brows titled downward as his gaze on me intensified, and I suddenly felt very frightened of him. "You would take the blame for his crimes after all he has done? You would give up your own freedom?"

"I'll lose my freedom no matter what I do." I admitted. His words struck me. In my vain effort to put others before myself, I was willingly placing myself in danger. I would gain nothing by taking responsibility for Erik's actions except to let him get away, guilt free.

"Also, what makes you so sure that Erik will stop killing people? How will you protect the lives of your friends if you are locked up?" He pointed out, his reason slashing my plans to pieces like a sword through thin sheets.

"I could pacify him." I suggested. "I could make him promise not to harm anyone if I stayed with him. He would do anything I ask him."

"I'm afraid it will take more than that to stop Erik. Promises mean very little to him."

"Is it really so hopeless?" I whispered.

He made a vague attempt to smile at me. "If all hope were lost, I wouldn't be here. You at least have enough of the monster's trust for him to let you leave his home. So there is still a chance that I can help you win your freedom."

I shuddered at the word _monster_. Truly there was no loss of love between these two former friends.

"We must set a plan in place so that when the time comes to make your escape, Erik must be distracted. His attention must be turned away so that he will not have a chance to pursue you, for he will be pursued as well. If he is too busy protecting his own life, he will not have the opportunity to follow you."

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks with realization that to save my own life, I would have to put Erik's in danger. That terrible scenario hadn't crossed my mind until now. I hated Erik for what he had done to me, but I still felt connected to him. I knew that once I left, I would lose that connection, that part of my soul that he had revived with his music and his passion. But I could not bear to think of leaving if it would cause his death.

Or worse. I could see now Erik's hands in shackles instead of mine. He would certainly be captured and tormented just like before. I now doubted my strength to go through with this.

"What must I do?"

"For the time being, I must ask that you remain with Erik. I will contact the Vicomte using the greatest secrecy so we can arrange your departure from Paris. Until that time you must promise me that you will not attempt to leave the opera house or escape on your own. It could mean disaster for us all."

My head felt like stone as I nodded in solemn agreement. "Genevieve," I whispered. "She must come with us. She is in great danger here as well. I won't leave unless she comes."

"I agree with you. I will contact the de Chagny brothers and insist they take you and their sister out of Paris. I will need a week, maybe more. I will contact you to let you know when. In the meantime, you must act as normal as possible. Return to the stage, sing, do whatever it takes to keep Erik happy."

He still was holding my hand and looked down at it in concern. "You're shaking." He noted. He lead us away from the shadowed corner and back towards the foyer. "I know why. You are afraid you will never leave this place. Please have courage, mademoiselle."

We rounded into another corridor and his grip loosened on my hand, but he did not release it. "This is where I must leave you, before we arouse any further suspicion. I will contact you soon." He bowed at the waist, his nose just resting above my hand. "Good day." I watched him walk away and out of sight. I dared to hope that his cryptic plan would work and if I played my part a while longer, I would be free. I glanced around hurriedly, once again afraid that Erik was lurking behind me. The hallway was silent. I couldn't even hear the Persian's retreating footsteps any longer.

Still, his words rang clearly in my ears.

_Do whatever it takes to keep Erik happy._

* * *

><p><em>More EC angsty goodness in the next chapter I promise you!  
><em>

_Shout out to another beta reader who join my team, SesshomaruLover23! And also thanks to all of you readers and reviewers!  
><em>


	28. Act Three: Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I did not have to wait long for an opportunity to please Erik. Upon my return home, he eagerly asked if we could continue our music lessons. I agreed readily and soon found I was grateful for the distraction our lessons provided me.

When I wasn't singing, my thoughts turned directly back to my conversation with the mysterious Persian and my impending rescue. I was still in the dark about this plan, just as I had been about the arranged meeting between Raoul and me on the night of the masque. I considered it was perhaps for the best, for if I was clueless about what was going to happen, there would be no chance of accidentally revealing it to Erik.

My mind was still filled with fear at the premonition of what would happen. What I feared most was not my own life, but the realization that in exchange for my freedom, I would have to sacrifice someone else's life; Erik's. Perhaps I hadn't faced the terrible truth that abandoning Erik would damage him beyond repair, but to place his life in danger?

After our incident with the knife, Erik had overcompensated in politeness and gentleness in my presence. He truly sought to mend the broken bond between us. He let me set my own schedule and did not demand I sing for him when he requested. I spent lazy mornings sleeping in, before I joined Erik in the main room of his home. I would sit and read, and discover that he had left me tea and refreshments at my side while I was absorbed with my books. After lunch, we started our lessons, which lasted throughout the afternoon. Within a few days, we had covered every part and every line to the score of Faust.

Just as Erik had predicted, the opera did eventually re-open. The details of the diva's death were kept out of the papers, and the members of the company avoided speaking of it while in the building. Even the usual chattering corps de ballet seemed to move about the opera as if walking on eggshells, their tongues for once silenced. Faust was announced as rehearsals started for the chorus, even though there had been no assignment of leading roles.

I did not seek to draw any further attention to myself in rehearsals, and found it an easy enough task to remain quiet. Genny did not appear for rehearsal on the first day, and I was relieved when she was still absent the day after. Hopefully Raoul had taken my concerns seriously and already taken his sister safely out of the city. I did seek out Camille afterwards one afternoon and asked if she had heard anything from Genny, but she admitted that she had not seen our mutual friend in over a week.

By the end of the week with one star soprano dead and the other missing, the tongues eventually started to loosen. I had no doubt that they would soon be talking about me. As we were dismissed from practice Saturday afternoon, I could feel almost every set of eyes watching me as I left the stage.

My feet led me to my dressing room, which I had not visited since the closing performance of Le Nozze de Figaro. Upon my inspection, I concluded that the room had not been occupied since. My costumes, as well as Genny's, were hung against the back of the door. Handkerchiefs and open perfume bottles littered the dressing table. An acrid stench of wilting flower petals and dirty water assaulted my nose. Now this once-happy place had transformed into a den of depression. I ran my hand along the dressing table, feeling the dust gather on the pads of my fingers.

Something caught my eye. Underneath a delicate wooden fan that Genny had used for a prop, I noticed a flash of brilliant white that contrasted starkly with the dusky dim atmosphere. I retrieved the object and saw it was a letter with my name written crisply on the front.

I tore it open and read over its contents, all the while my heart fluttering in my breast like a bird desperate to escape its cage.

_Christine,  
>I have not forgotten you. Knowing that I must keep you in danger while I work to free you is more devastating to me than you can imagine. Once I have made the plans with my new ally, I am prepared to take you back to our estate in Normandy. Philippe has agreed to this and given me his blessing. He will join us later and you will have the protection of my entire family. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Yet I too must wait till the time is right.<br>Be brave. I'm coming for you, my love.  
>Raoul<em>

Judging by the handwriting, it had been written quickly. I clutched it to my breast tightly. I breathed in deeply, letting my lungs fill with exhilarating air. After almost a week in the dark, not knowing anything about my intended rescue, I had begun to lose hope. Now I could feel that hope start to renew at the anticipation of my freedom.

I reached out to touch the words with my fingers, wanting to read it again; wanting to even read it out loud. My index finger touched the first letters of my name.

"Christine."

I heard Erik's voice and my hopes were crushed. Even in my elated state, I was still aware enough to realize it was his voice calling to me and not a figment of my imagination. I had to act quickly in order not to startle myself and arouse any suspicion.

"Erik?" I called out in a sweet voice. At the same moment, I closed my hand, crumbling the paper inside. I turned slowly, bracing myself. To my surprise, he was not standing behind me, or even in the room. I directed my gaze at the mirror and forced a wide smile on my face. "Erik, are you there?" I called again. I heard a snap coming from the direction of the mirror and a sharp breeze passed by me, accompanying the sound. I dropped the crumbled paper to the floor.

The glass surface of the mirror slowly disappeared to be replaced with Erik's dark and imposing figure filling the frame. He stepped into the light and I saw a large piece of fabric draped over one arm. In his other hand, he held up a long steam-white rose. The bloom was the largest I had seen, with each petal stretching outward. I couldn't help but gaze at it with wonder. Erik noticed my visual attraction to the rose and extended forward.

I reached out and took it from his grasp, offering another sweet smile. I felt my skirt sweep forward and cover the spot where I had discarded Raoul's note. I let my fingers run through the petals, feeling their delicate softness caress the pads of my fingers. At the same time, I lifted my right foot out of my shoe. Concealing my actions beneath my skirt, I found the note, grasped it with my toes and deposited it neatly within my empty shoe.

The intoxicating sweet scent of the rose filled my nose as I breathed in serenely and stepped back into my shoe. I did not feel right. I felt my deception rise up into me, like a bitter poison. I suddenly became very nervous, wondering how long Erik had been watching.

"I'm glad you are here." I managed to say. "I was not looking forward to walking outside to the Rue Scribe." It was a pitiful excuse but the best I could accomplish.

"It is not so cold right now." Erik explained. "The weather had taken a pleasant turn this afternoon. Therefore I was hoping you would indulge me…" He lifted his other arm that held the mass of fabric, which I could now determine was a cloak. "In an evening stroll."

My teeth shifted as if they would start to chatter uncontrollably. Something in his casual manner seemed to be concealing his true motive. Perhaps he already knew about the note. He could have read it and was now inwardly relishing my attempt to conceal it. "If you insist."

"It would give me great pleasure if you would join me. Besides there is something I have to ask you." His long fingers reached towards the rose. In one fluid motion, he stroked the petals and the edge of my fingers as well. I took a step back, regretting it the moment I did. I could not show my fear to him.

Erik unfolded the cloak and offered it to me. It was a lady's cloak made of soft grey wool and lined with rich amethyst velvet. The thick fabric felt heavy against my shoulders. We walked back through the mirror, and I tried desperately to think of what would be expected of me and where he could be taking me as he led me through the dark passages between the walls. They were unfamiliar to me and I knew soon that we were not returning to the house on the lake. I couldn't let him know my discomfort, and I forced myself to hold his hand tighter instead of pulling away. With each step, the crumbled note in my shoe pinched me tighter.

He led me up several steps, and once we stopped climbing, I felt breathless. Not just from the physical activity, but from my nerves. We stopped in front of a door, and Erik turned to look at me face-to-face. He reached to the clasp of my cloak and touched it, assuring himself that it was secure. He rested his hand on the side of the hood, pressing the soft fabric against my cheek. He stood there wordlessly for a long moment before he opened the door.

I thought my heart could not sink any further. I saw before me the strange statues and shapes that litter the roof of the opera house. I jumped back, tripping over my own feet, as if the wad of paper in my shoe had turned into a blazing coal. Erik had to have known about the note. Why else would he bring me here? I allowed myself to be led forward as we slowly paced around the roof top. While I should have been taking in the breathtaking view of the clear evening sky, I instead was shaking with dread at what would happen. Erik noticed, but did not ask if I was cold. The cloak he had given me provided sufficient warmth. We both knew the temperature was not the cause of my tremors.

Erik paraded me along the west side of the building and around to the southern end. I could look out and see the city, still well-lit in the beginning hours of twilight. The river stood still, looking like a large sharp piece of black glass cutting through the streets. I glanced behind me to see the ever-watchful gaze of Apollo. It was as if the god of music himself stared down directly at me, judging me for my transgressions. I had put Raoul in danger and I had lied to Erik time and time again. I was certain now that he would drag a confession out of me and I would be forced to reveal my ulterior motives. I would seal my own fate and Raoul's.

The silence that passed between us was terrifying. I wanted to end it but I kept silent out of fear. A wind propelled itself from the street below and across the roof. The building was still covered in a light layer of snow from the previous day. The breeze stirred the snowflakes and they started to encircle us, as if in a dance. Erik and I both gazed up in amusement at the snowflakes. However Erik's gaze lingered on my face.

"Christine, you look very beautiful." He whispered. The arm that held mine pulled me closer. "Have I ever told you that?"

"Yes, but there is no need to flatter me." I protested, purposely keeping my gaze focused away from him.

"Forgive me then." The sad inflection in his voice caused me to feel guilty about my harshness.

I wanted to know what was going to happen. He was clearly toying with me. My anxiety prodded me to pry, but I dared not. I tried to make casual conversation while waiting for the axe to fall.

"The city looks very lovely. Erik, do you come up here often to look at it?" I asked.

"Not as often as I used to. Over the years it has become too noisy, too cluttered." He remarked leaning his body forward to look over the edge. "Even from up here, I feel the cluster of humanity building and overflowing." He sighed. "And I'm still not a part of it. As much as I adore this city and all it offers, I long to leave it."

"Where would you go?" I asked with candid curiosity.

His lips curved slightly as he thought and I watched them. I had learned to study Erik's eyes and the movements his lips, as they were the only way of judging his emotions beneath the mask.

"To the country, I think. Somewhere quiet in the middle of the woods." He answered in a light tenor, as his lips molded themselves into a smile. "A place where I can be alone. Where no one can inconvenience me and …where I would not be a _blight_ on society." As he spoke, his voice lost its gentle air and his face fell. "No…perhaps not alone." At this, he turned away from me. The hem of his coat was dusted with a layer of white from the errant snow. "Christine, I need to ask you something."

I braced myself. His pretense was starting to fade and I knew I would now be called to answer for my actions. I tried to think of what I could say, knowing that it would be useless. The air around me felt colder now as I awaited his question.

He was hesitant. I could hear him breathing, even over the wind. The labor harsh sound penetrated my ears, no doubt caused by his rage. I bravely moved forward and rested one hand on the back of his elbow and forced myself to look at him. He stood in the snow, trembling. There was no light from underneath the mask as he held his eyes tightly shut, and his shaking hands desperately clutched an object.

"Christine." He swiftly turned. He would have pushed me over with the force of his body if I hadn't sidestepped him. His trembling hands came into view and I saw clearly now what they held. His eyes finally opened.

"Christine…marry me."

We both stared at the plain gold ring Erik tightly held between his thumb and index finger. It glowed like an ember among the black leather gloves that encased his fingers. I had been struck dumb with fear that he would throw insults at me and lash out with his anger. So this was the last thing I expected.

This was much worse.

I took a step back in stunned surprise, and he looked at me, his eyes filled with such terrible sorrow. He hadn't asked me. He had made it a statement. As if by speaking the words aloud, he could make them so. He seemed to realize his mistake and shut his eyes in pain.

"Wait, listen to me. I know I have no right to ask for your hand. I have no right to deserve your affection or your friendship which you have so freely given me." he explained. One arm came out towards me. He did not embrace me, but only let the tips of his fingers touch the edge of my cloak. "I realize every moment I am with you that I profane your presence with my hideous face. I have done so many terrible things in my life, but I want just one chance to do something right." his voice cracked as he continued to beg. "I have ruined your reputation by having you stay with me in my home. I am painfully aware of that. Let me amend my mistake and take you as my wife. If you would have me as your husband, I would spend the rest of my life working to atone for all that I've done for you."

"Oh Erik...what can I say?" I gasped. "You cannot force me to love you!" I cried with sadness.

"I would never force you!" he matched my intense emotion with his own. "I'm asking for your hand. Just like any other man." He fell to his knees in the snow, his hand reaching from the edge of my cloak to the hem in my dress. He touched the fabric as if he were cradling the delicate wings on a butterfly between his powerful fingers.

I let my head sink between my shoulders, already feeling tears threatening at my eyes. I held them back, knowing it would hurt him to see me weep bitterly after he had proposed. How could I answer without destroying him? If I responded honestly, I would wound him. If I was forced to lie, I would only prolong his suffering.

"What if I said no?" I asked. "Erik, I know you. If I refused you, would you just let me go? As simple as that?" I shook my head. "We both know the truth. You couldn't willingly let me walk out of your life. I have no choice."

His hand fell away and returned to cover the one still holding the ring. He shot me a fierce glance, and I could see that he was already crying while I was trying to hold back my tears for his sake.

"I let you go once." he whispered. "You asked and I let you leave me, even though it nearly destroyed me. But I would give myself over to any destruction, any pain, if it would make you happy Christine." He pulled himself up, his height casting an imposing figure against the fading lights of the city. "And yet you hate me..." he hissed.

My heart rolled over. I felt as if the temperature had dropped another ten degrees. The air around my stinging cheeks was almost as icy cold as his voice and his threat. It was a test. Erik, even in his despair, was cunning.

"I do not hate you, Erik." I said. "You know that."

"You are acting exceedingly cruel to me for one who claims not to hate me." he jeered. "Do not spare my feelings Christine. Do not try to be coy in your excuses." I watched his hands ball into fists. "You couldn't bear to think of having a husband with a face like mine. It sickens you to think of yourself wed to a living corpse."

I had to plan my next moves very carefully so not to send him into a rage. I took a step towards him, my hand extended outward as if to calm a cornered animal.

"It is not your face that frightens me." I confessed.

"What is it then?" he shot back, flinging off my plea as if it were an annoying insect on his shoulder. "What caused you burst into tears of fright instead of joy when I asked you to marry me?"

"I am not afraid of you. I know how thoughtful and generous you have been to me." I licked my lips. "But your anger frightens me. It terrifies me. I'm frightened that such a good soul can at the same time be twisted and cruel. It's not hatred I feel for you…it's horror. " I made the decision to be truthful. In this moment, I could not be deceitful and lie to him. "You have murdered for me. I fear that if I reject you, I would be taking responsibility for your actions afterwards." I was finally standing in front of him and I reached up to touch his mask. I pressed my palm against it and felt the firm flesh that peeked out from the side, making contact with my own skin. "I do love you, but don't make me pay for your sins. Don't make your love for me..."

_Ugly_. The word was on the tip of my tongue and I stopped it. My affection for Erik was still pure, but with every layer I uncovered of his true nature, I felt it become tainted. I knew I could not change who he was. I could not wipe his slate clean. His past would always haunt me. That was why I could not stay with him and I could not be his wife.

He grabbed my hand with such intensity that I winced. But instead of jerking in it anger, he instead placed a feverish kiss upon it. My body was forced forward and I fell upon his chest. Now not only could I hear his sobs, I could feel them press against my cheek every time he heaved.

"Then tell me what I must do!" he cried. "Give guidance to such a misguided fool like me. Tell me what else I have to do to earn your love." He cupped my chin in his hand and brought my face to look at his. "I would never force you. Let me earn your love. To win your hand would be the greatest prize in the world."

His chivalrous pleas might have fallen on deaf ears. He had offered me so much and I still hesitated to become his wife. Despite his unfortunate face and misguided actions, he had done everything to please me and earn my affection. He gave me his music. He offered me his protection. He afforded me with a home and comfort that I would never have been able to manage on my own.

Then the realization hit me. It was not what Erik could do for me, but what I would prevent him from doing for me. At last, I had something to bargain with.

"Erik, you have given me so many gifts and you have offered me your protection. As my husband I am sure you would continue to do so, but you go too far. As much as I am grateful for what you have done for me, I am equally horrified of the actions you have done in the name of love. Please put your sinful past behind you. No more lies, no extortion or threats. Not to my friends or anyone. Don't let me feel like I have to watch every step I take. Don't make me fear for the safety of those around me because of you. No more murders. I don't want to fear you anymore." I stated firmly. I touched the ring in his hand. It was nothing more than a simple gold band. I knew he could have afforded to buy a more expensive ring if he wanted, but he presented me with this; a simple token of his love.

"I promise to consider your proposal. I am not rejecting you, but I cannot accept unless you promise me my requests." I was surprised how calm my voice sounded, as if I was bargaining a business deal instead of a display of deep affection.

His head tilted as he thought. I feared for one moment that he would laugh at me, or worse, curse me for demanding something of him. He had completely changed my life and there was nothing to prevent him now from doing it again. He could agree to nothing and spirit me away once more. I would be helpless against him. But if he accepted my terms, I would earn myself a little freedom for now and then be able to escape when the time was right.

Or when that time came, would I have another change of heart?

I felt Erik slip the ring over my finger and press it against my flesh. "Christine, as long as you wear this ring, you will have my protection from all those who try to harm you. I promise you I will be a good man, and if you would have me as your husband, I would make you the happiest of women. I will confine myself to my home while you are away and only beg for your company when you return. Let me continue to coach you and let your voice be heard and praised all over the city. Sing for me and I will do anything that you ask of me."

The ring was heavy and cold against my fingers, which were starting to tingle from the cold. I folded my hands together, and Erik, understanding, enclosed my hands in his, shielding them from the bitter wind that stirred around us.

In that moment, I wondered if I truly had the courage to go through with all this. I would again engross myself in another shameful lie, and consent to marry him to keep him happy. I would give this broken man hope, but it would be a false hope. Once I left him, it would destroy him, and he would forever live with the terrible truth that I had deceived him. I stood at a crossroads of submission and betrayal. Perhaps I was already beaten. I bit my lower lip, desperate to think of a reply.

Erik answered for me. "You can give me your answer in time, but until then will you wear this ring. As a promise to me. I will keep my word as long as you wear this ring." He squeezed his hands tightly against mine in a sad act of desperation.

I swallowed the confession rising to my lips. I recalled the Persian's plea to do whatever it took to make Erik happy, to pacify him.

Deceive him.

I nodded. "I will Erik." We both sighed in unison, his was one of joy. His mouth formed into an honest smile. He leaned over and pressed his lips firmly against my cheek. They were shockingly warm, even for being in the cold. They felt like a hot cinder against my frigid cheek, and it felt wonderful. My hand reached up to touch the back of his head, pressing him against me. I could feel a tear falling from the corner of my eye and feared it would fall on him. I moved my lips to connect with his. They stayed there, matching the gentle pressure he used. My free hand gripped the collar of his coat.

I couldn't let him see me cry...and I didn't want to let him go.

He didn't press further. My lips parted for him, but he simply kissed my bottom lip and pulled away. I kept my eyes closed, knowing I did not have the strength to look at him.

"Christine, you will save me." he whispered and then pulled me into a deep embrace. Enclosed in his arms, I felt the safest I have ever been. That thought made me want to sob even harder, but I choked it back. "And perhaps when the opera is done, we can go away from here. To a cabin...in the quiet woods. Would you like that?"

I wanted to tell him that nothing would make me happier. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to turn the world upside down so that I could stay with him.

I wanted the impossible. I stayed buried in his embrace and hated myself for it.


	29. Act Three: Chapter Five

"Christine, the part is yours."

I stared at M. Gabriel in astonishment. Our eyes connected across the span of the desk in his modest but neat office. He had requested my presence in his office during our lunch break and I had been fidgety ever since.

"Beg pardon?" I asked.

"Marguerite. I have selected you to sing the lead role in Faust." He explained in his usual no-nonsense tone. "It took some convincing on my part to have our managers agree with my decision; but they eventually conceded. We are facing a lack of talent in this company after the recent…unpleasantness regarding La Carlotta. I understand their objections given the circumstances, but we have to move on and try our best to work with what we have."

Gabriel, despite his often fussy demeanor, was intolerably good at being professional and frank. However, his vague description left much to be explained. My curiosity and my shock of his announcement collided into a volley of questions.

"I don't understand. Were they upset by your choice monsieur? I'm very grateful for this opportunity, but I don't wish to put your career in jeopardy. I know I'm still a novice." I protested.

He waved a hand dismissively, and what could have been the briefest hint of a smile cracked at the corner of his lips. "No. It's not your talent they have an issue with. While circumstances almost force me to cast you as Marguerite, given your youth, they aren't the only thing that influenced my final choice. It's not simply that you are in the right place at the right time, Mlle. Daae. Your voice in simply ideal for the role." He rolled a pen between his fingers. "No, they were reluctant because of certain…" He glanced up at me again and a truly nervous look flashed over his eyes. "Mlle. Daae, surely you've heard of the Opera Ghost?"

I had worn gloves throughout rehearsal to keep Erik's ring concealed. I found myself looking down at my hands and forced my eyes back up to meet M. Gabriel's.

"I'm sure you have and hopefully you have been sensible enough to dismiss them for the silly rumors they are. It doesn't make sense that our managers should operate their business based on the superstitions of ballet girls and spooked employees. Apparently there is much more to this peculiar situation. The managers believe this ghost is a real person and they have involved the law in discovering his identity. He's already made threats against the managers and the artists, and they strongly believe…" he paused and stopped rolling the pen. "That this individual may have been the person responsible for Madame Carlotta's untimely death." He finished in a harsh whisper.

He set his pen down, and the small noise of it striking the desk was enough to command my full attention. "What you also may not know is that this ghost has been sending correspondences to members of staff including myself in regards to certain casting arrangements." Our eyes locked. "Some of them I'm afraid mentioned you and Changy, explicitly."

I was aware of this because Camille had already managed to slip a note to the chorus master from the Opera Ghost right out of his office. My concern was how many other notes had been "delivered" on my behalf.

"M. Moncharmin is become quite disturbed by this information and was hesitant to cast either of you. He was concerned mainly about your safety," He paused to assure me, "while M. Richard is desperate to keep the opera going so we don't lose money or patrons. And with no word from Mlle. de Changy, you were the natural choice for this part." He tried to smile at me in a gesture of comfort. "I'm sorry, that was a terribly long explanation." He stood up. His fingers that had been fidgeting stopped and he was once again the professional. "I would like to have you come one hour early before rehearsals to practice your lines. I have been instructed that we need to have this production ready in four weeks' time. You'll need to be prepared."

"Yes sir." I nodded swiftly. He stood to open the door for me. I caught his eye once more and smiled politely. "And thank you." I added.

He nodded in kind. Then I noticed his eyebrows furrow and the door stopped its outward motion. "Mlle. Daae." He murmured. "I haven't made a casting announcement yet. I don't intend to make my choices known until next week…so I would appreciate it greatly if you didn't repeat _anything_ that was said in this office. Understood?"

"Of course."

* * *

><p>I made great effort to be punctual to my lessons each morning. Erik, in turn, took great care to see that I was fed, well rested, and given a chance to warm up before I attended rehearsals. We did sing and practice together in the evening, but not for long. Erik was careful in curbing his manic obsession for music. We sang only briefly before he would become overwhelmed with concern about the state of my voice.<p>

The week passed quickly, and every day I stopped in my dressing room and made an effort to clean it. I returned the costumes, disposed of the flowers, and dusted every corner. Meanwhile I was careful to check every place Raoul might have slipped another correspondence. Sadly I was disappointed to find none and became suspicious of how Raoul had managed to leave the letter in the dressing room in the first place.

Always the thoughts of the unknown plagued me.

So my inner alarm was raised when I returned to the dressing room after the final rehearsal for the week to find it was unlocked. The muffled sound of a melodic voice beckoned me from the other side. I shook away my initial shock to focus on the sound and soon recognized it as the Jewel Song from the third act. I opened the door.

I focused on the wave of pale blond hair falling across the woman's back as she sang out sweetly. Her hands moved like birds in fluid flight about her body, one hand clutching a small prop mirror while the other gestured to a string of large pearls about her neck. I was frozen where I stood, momentarily enraptured by the beautiful song. Then the voice grew edgy and in that moment my eyes finally rested on the mirror where the woman's face reflected back at me.

"Genny…."

Genny smiled as her name escaped my lips and I returned it. Only seconds later did my emotions shift, and instead of feeling joy upon my friend's return, I only felt terror. On her playful smiling face I could see the clear cold look in her eyes as she had proudly confessed to Carlotta's murder. She set down the mirror and gestured with her long fingers for me to come towards her.

I only managed to take a few steps forward before my uncertainty held me back. A hurt expression crossed her face. "I'm disappointed to see this from you Christine. Is this any way to greet your friend?" she asked.

I was surprised by the tone of my voice when I finally answered. "What did you expect? The last time I saw you, I thought you had gone mad." I stated.

Her frown deepened. "I'm not sure how you and my brother came to that conclusion, Christine. I'm perfectly all right, but I have been terribly vexed about what has been happening at the opera while I've been away." She took a seat at the table and I cautiously took a seat in the chair next to her, my feet poised to launch myself up at a moment's notice. "My brothers have been hounding me for the past few weeks to leave Paris. It's become quite annoying." she laughed. "They even started bringing suitors to the house, as if I were a sixteen year old girl they wanted to marry off." Her laugh grew, sounding more sinister with the rising of its pitch. "Men can be so incorrigible sometimes, but they are men and they have a power. Even though they should know by now that I am a woman who decides my own destiny." I watched as her hand that had been toying with the folds of the table cloth snaked its way towards mine. "So I snuck out of the house this morning to return here. I told my fool brothers I was going to call on one of the foppish baboons they had presented to me, but I came here to claim what is rightfully mine." At those words, Genny's hand snapped out to grab mine and squeezed tight.

I jerked back out of her grip, toppling the chair and clumsily rising to my feet with an uneasy jerk. Genny's eyes widened in surprise. "Why Christine...are you afraid of me?"

"You tell me. I saw you and Carlotta's corpse, and now you're here gloating about it." I challenged.

Genny gave an indifferent shrug. "I'm not here to gloat. I'm here to claim my destiny. However I do have to inform you that unfortunately you will not be singing Marguerite. I will." My mouth dropped a little and Genny met this action with an unexpected look of pity. "Oh, please don't be hurt Christine. I wouldn't want to hurt you, but you see I've worked too hard for this to simply give it away." She reached out with pleading arms, and in that moment I saw my true friend return, not this callous woman. However, I did not accept her embrace as she had hoped, and her features darkened once more.

"I will sing Marguerite! I was promised it!" she snarled. "But not you Christine. No. In fact, a few months ago you were picking at threads and pinning hems. So it would be unthinkable that you would be capable of performing such a role."

Despite my efforts, I was starting to cry. Genny would never say such a thing like that to me. She had been a true friend despite our difference in ranks. This was not the same woman who had laughed with me and helped push racks of costumes through the corridors. She was not the girl who had shown such kindness to every member of the company. A fear I had never acknowledged had come to pass. She had changed and I dreaded that I would never see her again as she once was.

My hands reached up reflexively to wipe at my face as my silent defiance was breaking. Genny seemed unmoved as she glared at me.

"Do you not think I deserve this role, Christine?" she asked. "I figured in my absence you would be the obvious choice, because we both know you had help getting here." She glanced over her shoulder at the mirror then back towards me. "Both from me and from him."

My back stiffened in protest and my hands clenched into tight fists. Genny smiled knowingly. The thoughts of the unknown bombarded me at her statement. How much did she know about Erik? It was information that she was clearly ready to use to her advantage.

"Then surely you know by now that he is no angel." I whispered. "Despite your over-confidence, you have to admit you have been deceived…we both have."

Her face remained perfectly still, not even flinching at my comment. "Yes, he has favored you. It is no doubt that he holds you in such high affection that you have risen so high in such a short time. I told you long ago you could be a star like me, but you didn't listen. You turned to him, when you already had the support of your friends. You gave up our friendship for him. If you are upset by your situation, you have no one to blame but yourself."

Her punishing words ran a bitter truth in my ear. I had turned to Erik, a stranger, when I already had caring friends. I had become so involved in the strange promise of musical glory and in turn the restoration of my contentment, that I had purposely avoided interactions with my friends. I too often used the excuse of work so I could sneak away to that other world; a world devoted to music and joy. I was blinded. I had been deceived. Just like Genny.

"Genny….this isn't what you think." I stammered.

"I'm not a fool Christine! I know everything that is going on between you." She shot back.

A sudden rage filled me and I slammed my hand against a nearby armoire. The bolt of noise and energy made us both jump in surprise. "You know nothing!" The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You understand _nothing_." I was shaking from my outburst, but I continued, determined to make my friend find her senses. "You think you know, because you believe everything you've been told. You believed he was an angel as well. Can you now say you still believe that?"

"He loves you?" It was barely a question that she shouted back at me.

I shut my eyes. That was the terrible part of this whole affair. "Yes."

"Then that is all I need to know. That is all that matters!" she pointed an accusing finger at me. "Do not speak to me as if I were a child, Christine Daae! Don't attempt to threaten me, because we both know how powerless you truly are. That is why you continued to devote yourself to him. He loves you, and because of that he will give you anything you ask, but this is something you cannot have." Her fingers planted themselves on the back of the dainty white wood chair and curled about it tightly as if she wanted to break it. "I will sing Marguerite! I will get what is mine; what I have worked for!" Her voice had gone from a rising shriek to a slow and calculated tone. I feared for a second it was not the madness in her mind that was causing her to speak. Perhaps it was not shock or illness that caused this sudden change. Perhaps it was all planned.

The light of hope that I could restore my friend to reason was starting to fade, yet I was determined not to give up. I had already made the decision to leave Erik and escape Paris. I couldn't do it alone. I needed help and I was determined to rescue Genny from Erik's influence as well as myself.

"Genny, if only you could understand." I pleaded. "I don't want to sing Marguerite. I don't want any of this. The Phantom does and I'm only going along with what he wants to keep you safe. I don't think you realize the danger we are all in if I don't do as he asks. I've only stayed with him because I'm trying to protect you." I walked to her side and put my hands over hers. To my great relief, I felt her fingers relax their iron grip on the chair. Her downcast eyes looked up at me. "He'll…." A lump formed in my throat and caused me to pause, choking on my words. "He'll kill you...he'll destroy anyone in his way. I know it." I wasn't sure that Erik would keep his promise to me, if his greatest artistic achievement was now threatened.

Her eyes closed and her brow furrowed. "A very clever excuse Christine, but forgive me if I don't believe you. I think are loyal to him because you want to be. You aren't truly so helpless against him. No, I know that he has been the other man all along. The one you spurned my brother for." The corner of her mouth rose in a smile. "Now wouldn't he be interested in learning about where you true affections lie?" Her hand pushed mine away. "Perhaps he wouldn't be so eager to elope with you after all."

My face flushed red with shock. My anxiety started to rise. What had Raoul told his sister in these past few weeks? What had she been left to assume?

"Go ahead and tell him. Raoul already knows. He risked so much to come to me. That is why he hasn't wanted you to come back to the opera. He trying to protect you; protect us both!" Desperate tears leaked out from my eyes, beyond my control. "He's your brother. If you won't listen to me, then please listen to him." I pleaded.

I could detect a small sense of defeat in Genny's face. She was gloating about devolving my terrible secret to Raoul in hopes of breaking his heart. All so she could get what she wanted. She turned to the vanity table that I had spent tidying during the week, and like a fickle child, she swept her hand across the top, slowly causing combs, bottles and trinkets to fall to the floor. I braced myself.

"Yes, but I'm sure there are others who would be thrilled to know." Her voice rose over the clatter of falling objects. "Know that the only reason you are singing Marguerite is because Carlotta is dead and you have had personal help from the Opera Ghost." We looked at each other through the mirror. A devious smile was distorting her lovely face.

"Yes because you killed her!" I shouted and was shocked at the volume of my own voice. Genny faced me, her brown eyes glaring at me. She took one of the glass bottles that had escaped her earlier destruction and lifted it high in the air. Without taking her gaze from me, she let go and the glass shattered loudly on the floor.

When she finally spoke again, her tone was dripping with annoyance and distain. "Christine, you will not be singing Marguerite in Faust. I do not wish to terminate our friendship or destroy your happiness. But I will have what is mine. What I have worked for. You will not take it from me. So you will do me this favor and things can be as they were before. Keep my secrets and I'll keep yours. It would serve you well to keep us _both_ happy."

I did not need to ask who she was referring to. I knew. She walked past me and it took all my determination not to raise my hand to try and stop her, but now all hope of trying to restore my friend seemed lost. I stood there, disgusted with myself as she pushed passed me towards the door. I lifted my head to look at her just barely and called out.

"Is that all?"

Genny leaned against the door frame, her head cocked backward. A playful smile spread over her face. It was familiar feature of hers that indicated her lively nature and was often the precursor of her witty speech. I knew this time, beneath that smile there were no charming words waiting for me.

"Yes, and stay away from my brother."

* * *

><p>My feet carried me back through the passage by the Rue Scribe at a pace that made them appear as if they were made of lead. I made frequent stops along the way, grasping at the damp walls and shutting my eyes tightly. As if that could make everything go away. Internally, I was screaming.<p>

I would have to tell Erik that I couldn't sing Marguerite and it would infuriate him. I wasn't sure if he would ever keep his promise entirely, despite his efforts so far. I also still dreaded that he knew what I was planning all along, and only acting unaware.

My sluggish entrance through the door naturally aroused his concern.

"Christine, you look exhausted." He stated, reaching out to offer me his arm. I took it.

"I'm fine really." I lied. His worried gaze did not alter. I thought how an onlooker would view us. Erik, treating me with the utmost kindness; and I was distancing myself. It would appear very strange, but I knew beneath his kind actions, he was a man capable of un-measureable anger.

"Would you like supper now?" I shook my head. "Well then perhaps we can have you sing." He suggested with a smile. "You know how much I look forward to hearing you sing when you return home." I didn't answer and in my silence Erik led me to the piano without protest. He spread his music out while I only glanced down at the folio of my music on the piano top without interest. "You shall sing the Jewel Song." He stated while lightly plunking out the opening measures.

"I can't." I replied.

He cocked his head. "Yes you can. If you claim to be so alert, we can continue training your voice. It must be perfect for this role." I could hear a quiet angry tone start, and then rise in his voice.

"No! I can't!" I protested. He jumped to his feet with lighting speed but I put my hands up in front of me to stop him. "I can't sing Marguerite. I'm sorry." I struggled to find enough volume to give power to my refusal. "Genevieve has come back to the opera. She wants the role, and I….can't stop her." I only needed a quick look from Erik to inform me that he knew I was lying. "I don't want to stop her. She knows about us. I don't want to risk it anymore. Please…" My legs wanted to collapse underneath me from my mental exhaustion, but I knew my battle was just beginning.

Erik pressed his hands on top of the piano; his long limbs locked in stiff intensity. He let several breaths escape his still frame before speaking, in an attempt to control his temper. "May I ask why you lack conviction in this matter, Christine? Why you would so easily give up your dream?"

I should have explained that I wasn't giving up, not the way he saw it, but that I was afraid. I was frightened of what could happen, and that worry was driving me to the point of exhaustion. But I didn't. Instead I opened my foolish mouth and blurted out the first insult that had been poised on my tongue.

"It's not my dream. It's never been my dream. It's yours! It's what you have wanted all along." I cried. I wouldn't have thought it possible for Erik's posture to become more rigid, but to my disbelief his body became even tenser.

He turned his face to me, and I was taken aback to see a smile on it. I clasped my hands watching him, feeling my pulse race under my fingers as I awaited his reply. "Christine, I don't think you understand what opportunity you are throwing away. Your voice is incredible and more importantly, it is capable of giving you power. Power that you could never imagine." He must have guessed my confusion from my blank stare, so he continued. "The only other option out there for women of your stature is a life condemned to hard work and pitiful wages, or worse you could find yourself shackled to a loveless husband who treats you like you are lower than dirt." He spat out the last words. "Is that what you want from life? If you become a successful singer, you would attain the power of a prima donna. The ability to choose your own shows, to obtain every leading role, to command a salary that most people could only dream of. You could have all this, just from the beauty of your voice. You could have freedom and power." He started to move closer and even though his words had grown in intensity, the volume of his voice had gone softer. One hand reached up to caress my face, but hesitantly pulled aside, just grazing my hair as it passed. "That is all I want for you. I would do anything to give you the freedom and respect you deserve."

I suppose my ignorance of the opera world was why I hadn't considered this before. That the desire to succeed only for money, power and fame was more powerful than the love of music. Was that the reason behind Genny's dramatic change over the past few months? It was causing her to turn against her brothers, who she adored. Logically it made sense. Otherwise Genny would be relegated to the expectations of an aristocratic woman; to be married off and earn her family more wealth and connections.

With no connection and no money, I would never be able to achieve independence, except through music. However that had never been a goal of mine, it hadn't even crossed my mind.

"But I don't want fame or power…" I whispered. "I never have." How could Erik desire such a position for me and yet still wanted me to be his wife? It made no sense. I brushed my hand past his. "I'm sorry, Erik. I don't think I can be that person…the woman you want me to be."

I could see his breath catch in his throat as he suppressed a sigh. "Christine Daae, you are an extraordinary woman. I only wish you could see that for yourself." He grasped my hand, running a finger against the soft flesh of my palm; a pleasurable caress. "And I will love you no matter what you choose"

My hand entrapped in his was brought to his lip, where he rewarded me with a soft kiss upon my knuckles. "Sing the Jewel Song for me." he intoned.

"I can't..."

In a flash, I felt his soft grip under my palm transform into a cold trap as his bony fingers squeezed hard against mine. He flicked his hand with enough force to pull me forward a few steps. I nodded in agreement, terrified to refuse. Erik said he would love me no matter what I chose, as long as I chose him.

He seated himself at the piano and started the opening lines. My voice wavered on the opening note, not because of the trill. The note shook and trembled and I was certain Erik would stop playing in disapproval. He kept on so I continued, feeling no passion as I sung the empty vain words of Margurite.

"No, no this is not you! No, I see a princess of a story, sweetly smiling back at me!"

I wasn't smiling and then I did notice Erik was focusing on me. His genius for music was allowing him to fix his gaze on my person as his fingers carried on with the accompaniment from memory. I tensed and prayed my tears wouldn't start, for it would surely arouse his suspicion. Giving it my best effort, I spread a large grin over my face and continued into the second phase of the song. I watched the slight motion of the lids of Erik's eyes lower as his gaze started to soften.

"How happy I would be if he could look at me!"

Somehow I made it through the ascending staff, controlling the high notes without having my voice waver again, all while keeping my horribly false smile on my face. The song finally came to an end, and I pretended to be unaffected, even though inside I wanted to scream. I closed the folio and set it on the top of the instrument's polished surface.

Erik quickly came around the piano and behind me. His hand drifted to my stomach, pressing the length of his fingers across the bodice of my dress. I suppressed a gasp and I saw his thumb was stretched far enough to touch the bottom of my breast. I heard his breath in my hair, penetrating through the strands to caress the flesh of my ears.

I glanced at the ring on my finger. I had promised Erik I would be his wife. That would mean giving myself to him, even in terms of those primitive desires. I felt trapped and terrified to turn away. I waited for his action and it was my reaction that I dreaded most.

His hand reached to touch my face. I saw it out of the corner of my eye falling towards me, but he hesitated and let it fall to my neck. His fingers traced the skin on the side of my neck. He was admiring the instrument he had perfected; his creation, and in that moment I was struck by a piercing doubt. Could Erik only love me for my voice?

And would his compassion fade if I denied him it?

* * *

><p>AN: I'm so SORRY for the lack of updates. More chapters are coming soon. I'm desperately trying to finish the rest of the story during Nanowrimo and I already have about 20K words, so more new chapters!<p>

Many thanks to all my lovely betas and my wonderful readers and followers.


	30. Act Three: Chapter Six

M. Gabriel stared at me with bitter disappointment as I announced my refusal of the role. His usual sour frown deepened further as he looked over his papers in his office. He had already written out the cast list and was ready to present it to the company at the morning rehearsal. With a hard jab of his pencil, he crossed my name off the list. This was quickly followed by another hard mark.

"Seibel, then." he stated.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I had resigned my disappointment to being demoted to the chorus. I surely didn't expect to be given another solo position. I leaned over his desk to see what name he had crossed off in favor of mine.

"Oh..." I shook my head. "Not Mlle. Babineaux. Please sir, I don't want to displace anyone." I protested. Gabriel's pencil rose in the air to stop me.

"Mlle. Babineaux has already spent two years in the chorus and has just made enough process for me to barely consider her for a part. But she is not ready, not yet. You are." he explained. He let his hand fall down into his hand.

"I'm still disappointed in you, Mlle. Daae. You have shown yourself to be incredibly talented and gifted. In my fifteen years as choral director at this opera, I have never seen anything like it, especially for someone without any previous training. However you should know that talent is not the only thing to equal success in this business. You must have conviction as well. You must have passion. I saw it in you, but I have a feeling despite your dedication these past weeks, it has faltered."

I nodded. "Your assumptions are correct sir." I sighed thinking of all the hard work I had devoted myself despite my unwillingness to the task in the first place. To singing the leading role wouldn't have just been wonderful. It would have been my father's dream come true. "I guess I don't feel really ready for such a responsibility." I was genuinely sorry to have another person put faith in me, only to let them down. "Besides, I think you would upset Mlle. de Changy if you did not allow her to sing."

Gabriel bit into his pencil. "That is true. The last thing I need is another annoyed diva. She and her brother are patrons." he mused. "I hope that you are not giving up this opportunity just because you and Mlle. de Changy are close friends."

I sighed. "I would be lying if I denied that, but I'm afraid there are more complicated issues behind it. Again sir, I am very sorry."

Gabriel gathered his papers off his desk in a frantic gesture to look busy. Clearly he was becoming increasingly annoyed with my presences and my apologizes. "I'm sure that given your progress over the past few weeks, memorizing Seibel's role shouldn't prove much of a challenge." He took the stack of papers in his hands, he turn to gather his jacket and open the door for us both.

"Don't worry Mlle. Daae, many sopranos have won the hearts of men, even while wearing breeches." he quipped with a wink.

* * *

><p>The rehearsal for Faust continued under surreal circumstances that everyone in the company seemed to accept. Genny had made her triumphant return and assumed her role as prima donna. The rest of the company followed back into their normal pattern of business. The same friendships and alliances reformed after the disturbance caused by Carlotta's murder.<p>

However, there was still an air of cautious among the artists as if everyone was suspicious of one another. Everything seemed the same, but we all were aware of a strange difference that we did not wish to voice.

Genny's friends among the chorus praised her now more than ever, and surprisingly she returned their affection. However only so much. She no longer invited them to outings or brought sweets to share at rehearsal. She retreated to her dressing room; Carlotta's former dressing room which she had claimed, after every rehearsal instead of sharing in the friendly conversation among the other singers. I in turn did my best to become involved with the others, but I did not have a fraction of Genny's charisma. I succeeded in only appearing more awkward and distance. I felt the distain for my presence as an amateur.

One morning, M. Gabreil who was insanely punctual, was almost twenty minutes late to rehearsal. The chorus was in an argument before Camille left the stage, only to return moments later, the chorus master's papers and notebook crammed under her arm.

"Please, M Gabriel can't be at our rehearsals any longer." she stated, shouting over the agitated noise. "I shall contact M. Mercier to help us in these last few days, but for today, I have been asked to lead the rehearsal." This statement lead to even louder protest, particular from the men. Camille stood firm and soon with the corporation of the conductor, she managed to calm the singers and have them sing through the first acts of the opera.

Afterward the room was abuzz with gossip about M. Gabriel. I stayed off in the corner and watched as Camille spoke to Mercier and the conductor, before pushing her way pass the crowd. She saw me and gave a small smile.

"I suppose you're curious too." she asked. I nodded. In the few minutes after we had been dismissed, I had overhead the rumors speculating the chorus master's absence, ranging from mental breakdown to extramarital affair.

"I just want to know if M. Gabriel is well." I asked

"Well enough, considering a broken leg." She laughed and I looked at her stunned. "Don't worry Christine. It's all his fault. His superstition got the best of him again." We started to walk to the wings as Genny explained. "He tripped down the stairs outside the manager's office. He was babbling about seeing the Persian."

"The Persian?" I asked, my thoughts concerned for my mysterious ally.

"Yes, don't tell me you don't know about the Persian?"

I shook my head. "No, I have seen him about the opera."

Camille sighed. "Ah the Persian, a person who's mystery is only surpassed by the Opera Ghost. Despite how M. Gabriel might act, he is incredibly superstitious. He was raving that he saw the Persian and the Phantom together and they were casting the evil eye. He was in such a hurry to get away; he tripped over his own feet and fell down. I think his pride is more wounded than his leg."

I nodded as she spoke. "Strange things are happening around the opera." she added.

"Indeed." I touched her hand. "Camille, I've been meaning to ask you. Have you noticed a change in Genny?"

Camille gave me a startled look. She read the look of concern on my face and realized the seriousness of my question. "Apparently not as much as you have noticed. Is there something that has gone wrong? Something between you two?"

"Yes, but I think it is more than that. I think her mind is disturbed." Camille gave me a crooked frown of disbelief. "Please, it's not as it appears. Yes, we have had a quarrel but there is more to it than that."

"She's upset that you were given the lead role before she was. Is that it?"

I wouldn't bother to ask Camille where she had heard that information, for we both knew her to be a notorious snoop.

"That is part of it, but I fear something else in her had changed. Something that she is hiding." I sighed. "Perhaps I am overly concerned, since it's apparent that if there has been a change, you haven't noticed it. Perhaps it's all in my head."

"Christine, dear. I think the only problem you have is that you care too much." Camille offered. "You are just too full of kindness that it might cause you to think the world is coming to an end if we all don't get along." she chuckled. "But now that you mention it, she has been becoming more isolated. We've hardly spoken like we did before her promotion, and she was insistent on having Carlotta's own dressing room for herself." I watched her give an exaggerated shudder. "Oh, to be in a room that belonged to a dead woman."

I nodded in agreement. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a welcome and familiar face. "Raoul?" I was genuinely astonished to see him since he had made an effort not to frequent the opera. I hadn't received word from him in over two weeks and the opera was set to open in ten days. I could only hope that their plan was being set in motion.

More than likely he had stayed away as to not anger his sister. He took my hand on kissed it. "Christine." Camille looked at us both in a state of stupefied wonder and it occurred to me that Genny had never introduced her brother to her friend.

"Raoul, this is Camille, our assistant chorus director." I said emphasizing her new title. "She is a very good friend." Raoul offered her a small bow and brought her hand up to his lips in turn.

"Pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle."

"The pleasure is all mine, M. Vicomte." Camille answered and I could see her blushing though she tried to conceal it with a sheet of music. My assumption must have been correct.

Raoul reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew a letter. "Christine, I have something for you...could we discuss this in private?" I looked over at Camille, whose cheeks were still candy apple red. "It will only take a moment." he explained.

"Of course." Camille turned to address me. "But don't forget Mlle. Daae. I have notes for you." she chided in a playful voice, looking through her notebook to find her remarks that she had made throughout rehearsal.

I nodded. "Could you leave them in the dressing room? I'll only be a few minutes"

"Don't make promises you can't keep." she said smugly with a wink and then continued down the hall.

I turned my attention back to Raoul. The hall had only a few people left but I let him follow me down another until we came to the large sewing room which was deserted. I laughed inwardly, thinking of how I had scolded him for trying to meet with me alone in the opera before. Now I was leading him astray.

I couldn't help myself and I stood on my tip toes and planted a kiss on his warm cheek. I let my fingers brush a lock of his hair before touching his neck and falling back to my side. For a few precious moments, all my anxieties were driven away, being replaced by the pleasures I felt being near Raoul. He handed me the note which I opened. I didn't have a real need to read it since Raoul explained every word.

"We are leaving on opening night." he instructed. "I wish I could leave sooner, but our friend thinks this is the ideal time. Everyone around us will be distracted. I have already spoken to Philippe..."

I cut him off. "What exactly have you told him?" I inquired uneasily.

"I told him that you are under the terrible influence of your music teacher and that I must get you away from him. That is all."

I was incredibly thankful that Raoul had been so vague, but I also wondered what could endanger the Comte in our actions, if he did not know the deadly risk he would be taking to help us. "We will have our carriage posted outside the artist's entrance. As soon as the curtain falls, you and Genny must leave. I will be backstage with you as well as our friend. Philippe will stay in his box until the last act, and then prep for our departure."

"Then where will we go?"

"I have sent order to have our cottage in Perros made ready for us. We can flee there and then decided where to go. England perhaps." he mused. "Or would you rather return to your home country? Christine, I would carry you across the earth if you asked me to." he confessed.

His hands encircled my waist, pulling me close. "I don't want to wait. We should go now. Every day, I despair knowing that monster still keeps you _imprisoned_." he pressed his nose into my hair, letting his troubled words fall like rain into my ears. A small voice in the back of my head called out for me to object. To say that Erik was no monster, that I wasn't held like a prisoner in a cell. In this moment, enclosed in Raoul's strong arms, I felt safe and calm. It was too lovely a moment to let my doubts destroy it. "Oh Christine, fly away with me. Say you'll leave here with me now." he pleaded.

He knew my answer before I even spoke it. I shook my head. "I can't. I promised myself I wouldn't leave without your sister. How could we hope to be together if we wounded your family so?"

Raoul sighed, a dreadfully dejected sound that resonated through the empty room. "Christine, do you love me? If Erik were _handsome_, would you still love me?"

Such of question should have repulsed me. To think I would be so shallow that I could judge him based on appearance. However in that instant, my heart felt for Raoul and his unhappiness and I reached up and pressed my lips to his in reply. He returned my kiss with restrained intensity.

"Then say you'll marry me..." he whispered between breathes before I pulled away.

Cruel fate decided to act at that moment. As I pulled away, Erik's ring which I still had hidden between my breasts swayed and struck my chest.

"In time. First we must make our escape. We have waited this long..."

Raoul let his shoulder straighten back to their full height, but his hand still gripped mine. "I'm afraid, though, you will have to do some convincing to Genny to get her to leave. I know that Philippe and I are no longer in her good graces. Surely you will have better luck"

I frowned knowing the difficulty of the task ahead. I was also curious if the de Changy brothers had noticed the change in their sister as I had.

Raoul slipped the letter into my hand. "I know that notes like this are becoming dangerous things around here. Please read that at your earliest connivance." I pressed it in between my hands.

"I will." I promised. He stole another kiss from me. I could sense the hope within him that soon this nightmare would be over. I should have been sharing in it, but my heart was still full of doubt.

"Christine!" An irate voice interrupted as. We pulled away to see Genny marching down the corridor to the room, Camille trailing in her wake. I backed away from Raoul and put my hand behind my back trying to conceal the note. Even at this distance, I could see the fury in her eyes.

Raoul reached out her hand to his sister, but she pushed it away. "Christine, I thought we had an agreement."

"Genny please..." I started.

"What's that you're hiding?" she demanded and reached around to see the letter. I pushed her hands away and she in return push me back with a violent strength I could not fathom coming from such a delicate frame.

"A letter; _a love lette_r, no doubt." she snarled and snatched it from my hand. "Appears my brother is more foolish than I give him credit for."

Raoul's brow furrowed at his sister's action, while Camille looked astonished at all three of us. I gritted my teeth.

"It's private." I reached for it. "Please give it back."

"I know what you have been planning, Christine. You want me to leave the opera, leave in my hour of triumph." she proclaimed, holding the letter high above her head. Genny stood several inches above my meager height, placing it out of reach. My eyes burned with the threat of new tears. Our plans were contained in that letter, or perhaps Raoul's affection. Either thing could destroy us if Genny in her mad state discovered them.

Raoul stepped in between us. "Genevieve, please. Not here." he berated.

"Why not? Why not here. It seemed a suitable place for you two to sneak off and make love? Is it not?" He remarked garnered shocked gasps from both Camille and myself. "It's perfectly acceptable for you to shame the family by throwing yourself at Christine, but you won't let me sing." she challenged. "You, and her have been plotting against me, trying to force me to leave the opera. You want to replace me with her. That has been your plan all along."

"Genny, come to your senses." Raoul pleaded. "You know Christine, she is your friend and she only wants to protect you."

"Genny, if we leave, I swear to you I will never set foot on the stage again. I would give you all the fame you deserve, but you must trust us this once. What we are doing is for you own protection." I added. I watched on edge as she took several steps backwards and tighten her grip on the letter. One finger slide underneath the folds to break the seal.

"Forgive me if I don't believe either of you. I know the truths you are concealing. Raoul, have you truly told our brother why you are so desperate to rescue Christine? I know you haven't, because he would agree to it. Imagine the Vicomte de Changy marrying..." her eyes turned to me, fixing me with a sinister stare. "A costume girl. For that is what you truly are, Christine Daae. Nothing but a simple minded wretch who, if not for my influence, would still be picking up pins from the floor!" she spat.

Her words wounded me but only for a moment. I knew they were only a product of her madness. I used the opportunity to jump forward and grab the letter out of her hand. A corner tore and remained trapped in her fingers while I released the rest.

Genny's face became red hot with anger. Her tongue readied another insult. I took the letter and shredded it into pieces in front of her. Her jaw drop watching me defy her. Raoul managed to put a firm hand on his sister's shoulder to steady her, but in her rage, she managed to pull forward with that same mad speed as before.

The impact of her hand on my cheek caused my hands to drop the pieces of the letter to drift to the ground like falling snow. My reflexes caused my hand to cover my cheek. I heard Camille's loud exclamation in the background as well as the sounds of Raoul and his sister's heated words. I watch the remains of the letter scatter across the floor and prayed that it wasn't a love letter after all.

Raoul had both of his sister's arms locked behind her back. Her shoes made an angry sound on the floor as she tried to charge at me.

"You stupid wretch! You're nothing without me!" she declared. "I told you to stay away from my brother! You are not worthy of him, you little slut."

"Genny, enough!" Raoul roared. I stood up to face her, trying my hardest to look strong.

"You're mad." I stated. My resolve only seemed to infuriate her further. She managed to pry herself from Raoul. Even in her state, I knew that Raoul would never restrain her with enough force to cause any pain. She stood there fuming, her fists clenched at her side. She had her hair down, and it caught every flicker of light illuminating it like the sun. It cast an unearthly glow around her once pretty features, now distorted in rage. She spun to face Raoul.

"You want to marry her?" she laughed at him, "I'll tell Philippe! I'll tell our brother about all her dark secrets, even the ones she won't share with you!" she tugged at her dress. "Then we will see if he agrees with you then!" She gathered up the train on her dress and stomped out of the sewing room, deliberately making her footfalls as loud as possible.

It was Camille who came rushing to my side first. Her arms gripped my shoulders and felt them shaking underneath her hands.

"Dear God, Christine!" she cried. "What has happened?"

I glanced up at her to see that she too was visibly shaken from Genny's outbursts. I reached up and touched her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze to let her know I was all-right. I had two wishes in that moment. One was that Genny would keep silence for I was sure that even the Comte's good nature would not allow him to overlook any rumors about my relationship with his brother. I was certain in her wild imagination, Genny would have no trouble spinning lies about my morals in hopes of upsetting the family patriarch. Genny could not control Raoul's actions, but his older brother certainly had the power to.

Second was that I hoped that Erik had been true to his word and had not been lurking in the shadows watching me. He could have witnessed Genny's assault, heard my words and seen me willingly exchange my affections with Raoul. I was certain if he had seen any of this, he wouldn't allow _any of us_ to live.

"I fear we are all under the will of lunatics now," I replied.

* * *

><p>RC Fluff! What am I doing? ;)


	31. Act Three: Chapter Seven

Once again it was opening night and I was bundled of nerves; for all the wrong reasons.

The plan was set in motion. Raoul and Philippe had made plans to have their carriage ready by the artist's entrance outside the opera. It was ready to depart the moment the curtain fell. Raoul and the Persian would be waiting backstage. Ironically, the Persian would not draw to much attention since he had frequently been seen passing through the shadows around the opera. Raoul, however, would prove more difficult. His face and aristocratic bearings would be a clear distraction to the performers, particularity the young girls of the corps de ballet. Also, I was still fearful that Erik would be watching me not from his box, but backstage as well. I had managed to acquire a set of clothes that the chorus wore in the village sequence in the second act. Raoul donned a red knit cap and grey tunic and cape and tried not to feel ridiculous in his uncomfortable get up.

The only thing left to do was to convince Genny to leave with us, and that task was growing more impossible by the minute. After our argument, Genny had refused to even speak to me. She became completely isolated from the rest of the cast, only interacting during rehearsals and kept herself locked up in her dressing for hours practicing her role. Raoul had kept his distance from me as much as he could in order not to upset her further, and I missed his presence dearly. I needed his support and I was left alone. Even if we managed to escape and everything went according to plan, we would still have to learn how to mend the bonds that had been broken between us.

Raoul had wanted to marry me, but even if we were successful tonight, I still couldn't see it as a possibility. I was a shamed woman and a member of the working class. It wasn't even possible from the start. We would have to live with the knowledge that our love could rip their family apart.

I took a deep breath and finished combing my hair, before tucking it under my boy's cap. Part of me had no desire to sing tonight. I was so unnerved that I barely had any faith in my own voice. However, I knew that this would be the last chance Erik would have to hear me sing. My betrayal was unforgivable, but at least I owned him that one small favor; to sing for him one last time.

The dressing room was dark. I had only lit one of the gas lights and a small candle on the vanity table. The presence of the mirror has disturbed me so much that I partially covered it with one of the left over tablecloths. It resembled a tomb and it was fitting.

A knock interrupted my dismal thought. I opened the door and was greatly surprised to see Genny standing on the other side. She was already dressed in her first costume, a collection of sleeves and drapery in virginal shades of white and cream. Her blond locks cascaded down the back of her dress, pale in the dim light. She was beaming, an honest smile lighting her features. She took my hands in hers and lead herself into the room, her feet skipping as she went.

"It is our night, Christine. Once again, we will triumph." she exclaimed with a sigh. "This night is everything I ever hoped for. Everything I've wanted." She sat down at the vanity table, admiring herself while I watched speechless. "And I suppose I have you to thank for all of this."

I shook my head, not sure what she was playing at. "What do you mean?"

"You inspired me." she explained. "I knew you were destined for greater things even though you lacked the courage to do so. So I prayed to the Angel of Music to guide you. He spoke to me about you and I knew that he would find you. So because you were weak at first, I prayed that you would be made strong, and in turn, you inspired me to be stronger."

Her pleasantries did not affect me, "No, you're grateful to him, not me. I never wanted this for me. I would trade it all and let you have all the stardom you wanted, if things could go back to the way they were before. He is the one who mastermind all this. He's the reason you're singing tonight."

"No, you are. Because you stepped down, remember." She asserted.

"I wasn't given much of a choice. Should I have stayed and made you miserable?" I challenged. "No, I have done everything to try and right the wrong I have done...I have done..." I was struggling to argue with her when her words were ringing true. Yes, Erik was responsible for this terrible calamity but I had been his accomplice. My visible frustration was enough to cause a frown to crease her false cheerful expression.

"I won't leave tonight. Even if you have to drag me away, I will still come back. I belong here." she stated. She used her fingers as a comb to brush through her hair, making each strand ripple and reflect the light as she passed them. Then she turned back to me and took my hands once more.

"We belong here, Christine, together. On this stage. It is our destiny foretold by the Angel of Music, our good genius"

I squeezed her hand and shut my eyes simultaneously. "What makes you so confident that he will continue to favor you over me? You must realize that. He loves me and he is capable of many horrible things for my sake. Are you so confident he _will not_ direct his maliciousness will towards you? The reason I have given myself over to his whims is to keep you, Raoul and everyone in the opera safe. He could destroy us all if I disobeyed him." At the end of my bitter plea, hot tears had already spread all over my face.

I felt fingers reach up to wipe my face that were not my own. I let my eyelids flutter open to see Genny brushing the tears off of my cheeks, her face rendering the saddest of expressions. Her eyes seemed full of remorse and despair, echoing my own. I took in a breath as if it was a taste of relief and hope. She stood up and cupped my chin in her hands.

She gracefully leaned forward and planted her lips on mine. My eyes opened fully and I gave a small jerk, but Genny's hands kept my face still and under her control. She opened her lips slighting and enclosed them longingly over mine several times over before she drew back.

"Then don't." she stated. "You're a good girl, Christine. Things are just the way I've always wanted them." She stroked my cheek with the back of her hand, her lips still lingering over mine. "Stay here. Stay with me, Christine."

My refusal and conviction died away. I stood there too stunned to speak. Genny lowered her head and walked back towards the door and out into the chaotic scene of the crowded wings.

For a moment, I felt like following her, but not to the stage. A mad idea entered my mind and I could picture myself walking out the door, then out of the opera. Down the street running as far and as fast as my feet would carry me. I doubted myself so much that I wanted to abandon our plan all together. I wanted to leave everything and everyone behind. I reached underneath my costume. Once again my breasts had to be bound, which made my heavily padded boy's costume even more uncomfortable.

I withdrew my locket and opened it, the solemn face of my poor dead father looking back at me. He seemed so disappointed. A terrible thought crossed my mind. For the first time ever, I was glad my father was dead. I was glad that we wasn't alive to see what I had become. In my attempt to be strong, I had let myself be lead astray. I tried to be wise, but I was so quickly deceived and now faced with the challenge of trying to make amends, I was cowardly enough to consider forsaking my friends to save myself.

Which would be the worst option? To risk it all to save myself and fail? Or to run away? At least then I would be forced to confront all my faults and failures. I slipped off the locket from around my neck. Erik's gold ring hung next to the portrait clinked nosily against the metal covering. I unlinked the chain and slowly let the ring slide down off the necklace and into my hand.

Another knock sounded at my door. "Places, Mademoiselle Daae!"

I caught the ring in my hand, squeezing it tightly into my palm. I walked over to the mirror and looked at my redden face. As quick as I could dry myself and try to reapply my stage make up to even out my tone, I refasten my necklace, tucking the locket deep inside my shirt and bindings.

No matter what happened after tonight, I knew one life would certainly end up being destroyed. One heart would be broken.

Mine.

I set the ring down on the vanity table, letting my fingers graze its surface one last time.

"Erik, forgive me.._.and forget me_."

* * *

><p>Strangely the opera had continued on without incident. The other performers, musicians and even the managers seemed to carry on as it the horrific events of the past months had no effect on them. It was treated as the most splendid of opening nights and as always, the elite of Parisian society had come to witness the spectacle.<p>

With each act that passed without incidence, my anxiety grew. I had no doubt by now that we would have to drag Genny away, kicking and screaming, which would make our escape very noticeable. I couldn't leave her behind. Even though she had transformed into a woman certainly lingering on the brink of insanity, I could not abandon her. Not after she had trusted me.

The third act began. I performed my aria while trying to not let my voice become as shaky as my trembling feet. I made a deliberate effort not to glance up towards box five while I sang and instantly regretted it the moment I left the stage. Erik had been watching my performance and I didn't even acknowledge him. At every curtain call during "Figaro", I had nodded my head in his direction as I took my bows. There would be no curtain call for me tonight. I was leaving him and I couldn't even bother to glance back. I tried desperately to glance out from the wings and up towards the grand tier, but I could only go so far before I would be seen by the audience. I was also garnering annoyed looks from the other singers and M. Mercier in the prompt box. I just wanted assurance that Erik was there.

Genny entered on stage to thunderous applause. Like Carlotta before her, she reveled in the adoration and bowed to the audience before starting to sing. The strings started the phrases that would be the Jewel Song. I watched from the wings as she took the flowers left on the stage and tossed them aside in favor of the jewel case. She was trading our attempt at freedom for one of her own. I spied Raoul also watching from the opposite wing and our glances met across the stage. His expression was blank, not showing any enjoyment or regret.

Genny had glided to her position with flourish and picked up the jewels in the casket. They were garish and gaudy. A large string of pearls and cheap glass cut to resemble gems the size of grapefruits. She brought them to her face, smothering herself in them.

She blinked and I saw for one second the joyous smile she had on her face break. She frowned and her shoulders heaved with a labored breath. She tried to smile once more and face the audience, but I saw that stunned look in her face again. She took a few steps in time with the music, but she slipped. Her dance-like glide was gone and she turned to try and cover her mistake. With her back to the audience, I could see her cough and her fingers, still holding the large strand of pearls, start to tremble. Just in time for the opening note, Genny turned her arms outstretched, forgetting the prop mirror she was supposed to be holding.

She hit the note but the trill was weak. Her smile was fading and on her ascent, her voice was shaking. Something was wrong. This was her moment and I knew that nerves where not playing a factor in this weak performance she was giving now.

Then the lights started to flicker. The theater was filled with a buzzing noise that drowned out Genny's voice. Mummers accompanied the noise which gave way to a loud snap. Genny kept singing but her smile had gone and she was stumbling in step and losing her place in the music. Then a voice that seemed to come from all around us rang out.

"Behold, she is singing to bring the chandelier** down**!"

The next event happened in a matter of rapid and terrifying seconds. Genny's feet that had been leading her in some possessed crooked dance gave way beneath her. I watch her eyes roll back into her head at the moment her body tilted backward and fell against the floor. Without thinking, I rushed onto the stage to tend to her. A scream came from the audience and it was enough to cause me to pause enough to look upward. I would have echoed that scream but the sound died in my throat as I witness the terror above my head.

The great chandelier plummeted towards the stalls, its lights dying as it made its rapid descent to the floor. I didn't see the crash, but I heard it. Even as every light in the auditorium and on stage was extinguished with one swift blow, even over the screams I heard the terrible sound on shattering glass on wood, metal...and bodies.

I rushed to the spot where Genny had laid in darkness. I fell over my own feet and slid on my knees as I tumbled down, knocking into the hard casket. I reached out and felt the fabric of Genny's dress. Groping, I managed to locate her shoulder and pick her up to where I assumed she was in a sitting position.

"Genny!"

There was no response. Instead I felt her fall from my grip, forcefully. She was being dragged away from me by another person. I called out her name, again and again, reaching forth to try and touch her. I heard the clatter of hard shoes on the wood around us and then I was flung backwards onto the floor. A strong hand and touched my left shoulder and knocked me over as if I weighed no more than a piece of paper. Even in my shock, I had enough sense to let my hands swing backward and break my fall. My head bounced against the floor lightly and I was deafened by the sound of that determined footfall all around me.

"You broke your promise." That same voice...Erik's voice hissed in my ear. I laid there stunned as the steps retreated from me.

"He knew..." I sobbed. "He_ knew..._"

Suddenly, as quickly as they had turned off, the lights came back on. I turned my head to the audience who now were tripping and stumbling in a wild mob. The chandelier lay in pieces, a twisted clump of metal and glass. My head rested next to the casket and I suddenly became aware of a foul stench that surrounded me. I unwilling gasped, letting it fill my mouth and nose. It stung and assaulted my sense with the overpowering smell of chemicals. Crisp and metallic, they invaded my lungs and I pushed myself away from the scent.

A hand reached down and pulled me to my feet. I saw it was Raoul, still wearing his peasant's costume. I was coughing and sputtering as he pulled me to him. I wanted to spit, anything to get the terrible sensation out of my nose and mouth.

"Where's Genny?" Raoul shouted, trying to get my attention over all the chaos surrounding. I looked down at the string of pearls. I picked it up and brought it up to my nose. The same horrible smell assaulted me once again and I threw them across the stage.

"Drugged. The jewels are drugged." I choked out. "Erik has her! He somehow drugged that necklace and it caused her to pass out." I cried.

Raoul was already pulling me off the stage as he spoke. "Hurry. We need to get out of here." he said through gritted teeth. I tugged at the sleeve of his shirt.

"To my dressing room."

We ran through the throng of musicians and ballet rats who scurried to see the catastrophe and flee the stage simultaneously. By some miracle, I saw the Persian out of the corner of my eye. I called out to him and he followed us. Raoul kept my hand in a white knuckled grip as we raced down the corridor. Once we made it inside, Raoul slammed the door behind us and shouted in fury.

"I will kill him!"

I searched my dresser for the one item I had hidden before the performance. The things on the table top had been scattered and the ring was gone. I saw the mirror on the vanity was cracked, no doubt the product of Erik's handiwork. I found what I was looking for wrapped in a handkerchief; the key to the Rue Scribe.

As I stood there clutching it in my hand while my whole world feel apart around me, I wondered what had possessed me to keep it. I was determined to escape Erik, but I had kept the one item that would safety lead me back to him, as if I had secretly hoped to return.

The Persian was trying to talk some sense into Raoul. They were discussing the possibility of entering the cellars through the mirror passages. Raoul's eyes widen as he heard the extraordinary explanation of the secret entrance behind the mirror. My observations then turned towards the Persian. I could see he wore a long coat and as he turned I noticed a glint of metal flash from beneath it. He moved again and I could see protruding from an inside pocket the handle of gun. I pulled a cloak from my wardrobe and headed towards the door.

"This way. I know how to get to the house on the lake. There is a secret passageway on the outside of the building." The Persian looked at me with surprise and curiosity, then nodded in acknowledgement

"Lead the way, Mademoiselle."

They followed me through the hallways which lead out towards the artist's entrance, which now were mostly deserted and dimly lit. Even so, we could still hear the screams from the auditorium haunting our ears as we ran. Once I stepped foot outside, I immediately regretted no changing from the soft slippers of my costume to a sturdy pair of boots. A sting of cold shot through me as I encountered a pile of slush which soaked my foot straight to the skin. We made it undetected through the crowd of people, who had now gathered in the evening to watch the horrified patrons fleeing from the opera. In the distance, I could already hear the sound of a fire bell echoing through the streets.

We came upon the passage door. I still held the key in front of me, but when I reached to find the hidden mechanism, I gave a desperate cry. In the fading street lamps, I could see the brick that had concealed the key hole had been removed and the lock had been mangled. I could see scratches as if someone had beaten it with the brick, but closer inspection lead me to discover it had been melted and twisted. I attempted to press my key into the disfigured key hole, praying it would fit.

The key barely glided into the lock, only a few centimeters before it was blocked. The inside of the mechanisms had been crushed. It was useless. I saw a shadow fall over the corner of my eye and turned to see the Persian examining my progress.

"Erik has destroyed the lock." he stated. "Apparently, he has had more foresight than we have." He reached into his coat and withdrew not one but two pistols. He handed one to Raoul and stalked back towards the entrance. "We shall have to reach his home by a more dangerous road, I fear." The sight of the guns set me on edge and I ran to keep up with them. Raoul turned to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He speedily reached into his waistcoat and withdrew a small handful of franc bank notes.

"Christine, go down to the corner. Find my driver if you can or fetch a cab. Take it to my townhouse and lock yourself in. Do not leave until I get there." he ordered.

"I understand, but I'm not going. I'm staying with you. You'll need me." I pointed out.

"I can't let you. It's too dangerous. I've almost lost you to this madman; I won't risk losing you again."

I tugged at his sleeve. "Yes, but Genny is my friend. I feel just as responsible for her as you do. Besides, if you managed to find your way to Erik's house, how will you then get out?" I reasoned.

He covered my cold hands with his. "Christine. Please just listen to me, just this once. Do what I say and get away from here." He leaned over and kissed me, spreading his lips over mine. Then he turned to follow the Persian.

"There is a way into Erik's house through the cellars. I have been there. We can only have hoped that he has not destroyed that entrance as well." I watched them walk on at a brisk pace and then followed behind them.

Once inside, they walked even faster and I brought my protesting feet up to pace as the Persian turned down the corridors that I had only seen the stage hands use. Raoul finally seemed to notice I was still following them.

"Christine..." he started.

"I'm going with you." I cut him off. "Just to make certain you come back." I pressed my hand on against the side of his face and his gaze softened.

"We must hurry if we are to have the advantage on Erik." The Persian interrupted. "Stay right behind us, Mlle. Daae." I nodded and step by step we disappeared into the passages way that lead into the cellars, further down into hell. The Persian led us to a set of stairs which we descended. Every two dozen steps there would be a door which the Persian would open then shut. He would gesture for us to move ahead and he walked along, repeating this strange process three times. I was thankful that the gas lights in this stairwell had not been put out. Raoul held my hand and kept his pistol at the ready with the other having it pointed in the direction over the Persian's shoulder.

The forth door was locked. "We can go no further this way." He raised an eyebrow at Raoul and the angle of his gun, which was now pointed squarely at his face. "Perhaps I should have explained myself in regard to our fire arms, M. Vicomte." He moved his pistol so the barrel was pointing towards the ceiling and the heel of the gun was almost level with her shoulder. "These are not for shooting our foe in the dark."

"What do you mean, Monsieur?" Raoul asked

The Persian gave me a sympathetic look. "Erik is not frightened of guns. However we should be frightened of his weapon; the punjab noose."

"The punjab...noose..." I intoned.

"A rare weapon indeed, an even greater rarity to find so skilled a master as Erik." He started back up the stairs. "Back in my home country, Erik has earned the favor of the Shah and his daughter. Along with being their private engineer, magician and court composer, Erik was elevated to the position of executioner. He favored the noose which he would throw with deadly accuracy. He could snap a man's neck with the twist of his hand."

I buried my chin in the folds of my cloak to suppress my gasp of shock. Once again the Persian's understanding gaze fell on me.

"So you see, the guns are to protect...our necks." he explained, not wasting time on being sensitive in his speech. "So please keep them at the level of your eye." We entered through the last unlocked door on the level above us. I could see the Persian's back tense as he entered through the door. Only a few steps inside, we could all tell that there was not enough light in the space to help guide our way. The Persian deftly reached inside his jacket and brought out a box of matches. He struck one, handed it to Raoul and then lit another for himself.

"See if you can find a lantern."

Raoul managed to locate one quickly leaning against a large crate covered in dust. The light reveled what seemed an endless space of similar dusty boxes, racks, flats and miscellaneous stage dressings.

"I once followed Erik down here. He must have another entrance to his home besides the lake, a back door of some sorts. I saw him disappear between one of these flats so I would suspect that he had built a trap door in the floor."

I recalled what the Persian had told me earlier. That he had been trying to track Erik and had almost lost his life when he tried to cross the lake. Yet he had obviously continued in his pursuit for my sake.

Raoul moved me between them. "Stay close, Christine." They stalked across the darkened room, their eyes glued to the floor looking for the elusive trap door. I obeyed but my feet seemed to find every jutting corner to trip on in the darkness.

"Over here!" The Persian gestured us to a space near the wall, between two large painted flats made to resemble country houses. He set the lantern on the floor, illuminated a piece of the floor with a strange risen edge in the wood. Carefully placement of his fingers, and the "floor" opened and he swung the top of the trap door towards us. He leaned over, peering inside the pitch black hole. He frowned.

"I was certain I saw Erik come through this way. However I can only guess where it leads to." He turned to Raoul asking the question without speaking.

"Let me in first." he stated, nodding his head. "If it's safe, I can let you in." He reached his hand out to the Persian who handed him the box of matches. Raoul shrugged off his tailcoat and put his pistol on the floor. He sat on the floor, letting his feet dangle into the unknown abyss beneath us. He struck a match and with one quick glance at me, he jumped in.

My heart jumped when I immediately heard a thud below us. I peered over but could see nothing. "Raoul?" I whispered. I could see the flicker of a match that was only strong enough to show me his silhouette.

"It's only about a few meters down. Christine, I'll catch you." I glanced nervously at the Persian, who nodded and handed me the lantern. I positioned myself on the ledge and leaned over shining the lantern down into the darkness. It was enough to dimly illuminate Raoul's face and his outstretched arms. I gripped onto the lantern tightly and pushed myself off.

I closed my eyes, even though I knew I was dropping into totally darkness. Raoul's hands snatched me out of the air and forced my eyes open. The hand holding the lantern was shaking violently. Raoul hugged me tightly as he lowered me down to the floor, offering me assurance in his strong arms.

He relieved me of the lantern and held it aloft. I saw the box of matches on the floor and I struck another one. I stared at it in a moment's fascination while I heard the sound of the Persian drop down through the trap door. I saw the flicker of something familiar in front of me. It was a light, another light beckoning me. I forgot the pressing need to stay closer to my two protectors and walked towards the light. Quickly, I moved towards it, afraid of my match going out. The closer I got, the brighter the other light became. My hope kept me blindly going forward to the other light, which now revealed another form carrying the light ahead of them.

I was so close to it. I could feel the flame dancing downward, heating my finger tips to the point of burning them. I reached the light and outstretched my hand to greet this mysterious person before me. My hand smacked against something hard suddenly, sending a pain rocketing up my arm. A small cry escaped my lips as I saw my own reflection staring back at me.

I heard a string of foreign words escape the Persian in a tone of anger that could only indicate curses. The flame finally fizzled down to my fingertips and I dropped the match.

"What's the matter?" I heard Raoul ask. Then he called out to me. "Christine? Christine?"

I pressed my hand against the wall I had run into. "This wall...it's a looking glass. A mirror" I whispered.

"Yes. A mirror!" The Persian echoed angrily. "Such a fool..." he then muttered.

"What's wrong? Speak!" Raoul demanded.

A deep sigh escaped in the sickening darkness around us. I could see the faint light of the lantern start to reflect around the mirrored walls and ceiling.

"I am afraid, my friends, that is the entrance to the torture chamber." he stated.

We did not even have a moment to contemplate before we heard a mad scream echoed from beyond walls and the room was filled with bright red light. It was so sudden and filled with a vicious glare that all three of us covered our eyes to shield them. I staggered back towards Raoul, who held me close.

The scream was replaced by a chuckle.

"You old fool. I would have suspected you would follow me here." Erik's voice called out.

The Persian reached out and put both his hand over our shoulders. "Get down." he hissed, applying enough pressure that we did not argue with his demands. I drop to my knees and huddled on the floor, which was smooth on my skin.

"But I do believe you have company in there with you, dear daroga." Erik continued. "How cruel of you to lead the young vicomte here?"

The Persian pulled off his long coat and wrapped it over my frame. "Stay still." he whispered to me. He and Raoul were both spread out on the floor. He gestured to Raoul to move closer to me. "Hide her."

The light intensified and a creeping heat started to emanate from the floor. I could feel it warm my limbs in what was first a pleasing sensation that gave away to an uncomfortable one. I looked up at the room of mirrors surrounding us. I could see black shapes and shadows distorted in the clear glass and turned to see in the middle of the room a great sculpture that resembled some sort of twisted tree.

Erik went on with his taunts. "How good of you to drop by my home. No doubt you had a grand rescue in mind as you came down here. What a pity. You've landed into my oldest trap."

A beam of white light spilled across the room. I bent my head to look up, but Raoul placed his hand on it, forcing me to bury it into the floor. I placed it in the folds of the coat, to shield it from the floor. Erik must have been looking in from the outside.

"Erik, you must let us out." The Persian called out. "You gave me your word that no one would die at your hand. You made a promise!"

The heat increased and I was starting to sweat. Raoul kept a hand at the small of my back trying to comfort me, but I could feel it trembling.

"Promises are for idiots!" Erik sneered, his voice calling from all sides of the chamber. "Besides, with you two detained as my guests, you have let my lovely Christine unattended." He gloated. "It's sickening how easily I seem to get my way. I don't even have to try very hard."

"You fiend!" Raoul gritted through his teeth. I curled up further into the coat, feeling utterly helpless as Erik mocked us. I regretted ever believing I could trust him.

"Enjoy your stay in my home." Erik added. "But should you feel the need to cut your stay short, you may entreat on my generous hospitality and end your miserable lives." Another hideous laugh filled the room.

"What does he mean?" Raoul asked.

"Erik once built a torture chamber for the Shah. He filled the room with enough heat to kill a man. In some sick idea of mercy, he added the iron tree to serve as a gibbet, should the victim wish to take his own life." he explained in a hush tone. "If he leaves his home to try and find Christine, we are doomed. The heat will kill us in less than an hour."

"My God!" Raoul gasped. "He must not know that she is here." I now understood the Persian's desperation in trying to conceal me.

The coat was almost suffocating me. I pushed it aside only to find the heat of the room was a dreadful alternative. I coughed and Raoul put his hand over my mouth and held me up to steady me. "But how...can we hope to get out?" Raoul hand pressed tighter to silence me. The Persian was now crawling on the floor, searching for something.

"There must be a mechanism, or a switch; something that would open a door." he muttered. I looked over on the wall and saw a key hole; a lock with no handled. I recalled the night after the opening of "Figaro" when I awoke with my heart broken and opened the strange door in Erik's living room. The door Erik had warned me never to open again.

"Erik has keys. I know where they are. You must let me out." I explained. Raoul shook his head.

"No Christine, I will not let you go to him. Not again."

"But we'll die!" my voice rose and sounded across the room. In a flash the bright white light appeared again. The Persian stood up and grabbed my hand and pulled me to the other side of the iron tree. He then grabbed his coat and thrust it towards me, his serious eyes conveying his unspoken command. I pulled the coat over my head and huddled into the side of the twisted tree.

"Who else is there?" Erik called. I jumped. I had hoped as we all did that he had left by now. "Who are you hiding?" The suspicious was thick in his gruff voice.

"Nothing!" Raoul shouted. "Why don't you enter your death trap and see for yourself, villain!"

"That would make it too easy for you, M. Vicomte. I can plainly see your guns from here and I'm certain what you intend to do with them." Erik mocked. "You're hiding something..."

The room remained silent, except for the sound of our panting from the heat and exhaustion. I looked down at my feet only seeing the devilish red light mingled with the white one. I had to escape. I couldn't let us stay here and die in suffering. It would benefit no one. Raoul and I would end our time on this earth here in this miserable place. Erik would no doubt discover my body and go mad with grief, and what of Genny? Who would save her if we were all dead?

Raoul came around to the tree and pressed a hand on my shoulder. I peered at him through the coat.

"There is no other way. Raoul please let me try…" I pleaded.

He pressed his head towards my forehead. "I rather see us die together than give you back to him. Hate me if you must, Christine, but that is what I would choose." His voice was breaking from the stifling heat or from the tears he was fighting to hold back.

"But will you give me a choice? Will you give me a chance to save us?" I begged.

I was so close to the chance of escaping and starting a new life. Like with every other attempt I had made, I was seeing my hope quickly snatched away and destroyed. I knew the pain I would cause in whatever way I choose, but I couldn't accept this one. I could not have others suffer more for my sake.

Raoul sighed and nodded his head slowly.

The white light disappeared.

"Erik!" A sob cut into me as I called to him. "Erik, I'm in here. Please let me out!"


	32. Act Three: Chapter Eight

The door to the torture chamber opened with a crash. I followed the sound and moved from my hiding place behind the iron tree. I stood in front of Raoul and the Persian.

Erik's figure loomed in the doorway, his long cape practically blocking all the light from beyond the other room. In his hand I could see a large sword which he moved methodically back and forth in front of his legs. I stiffened at the sight of it and heard the shuffle of fabric and fingers behind me, no doubt the sound of pistols being made ready.

I turned around and flung out my arms so I could prevent the other party from attacking each other with their weapons. "Don't… please." I asked. I saw the Persian lower his gun, letting the barrel point down towards the floor and Raoul reluctantly followed suit. I felt my left arm violently grabbed as Erik pulled me from behind and out of the door. I didn't struggle but Erik's grip only tightened as if intended to run away.

"Christine! Christine!" I heard Raoul call my name, a terrible painful cry that filled my ears until the door of the torture chamber was shut and it became only a muffled lamentation.

Erik continued to pull me across the room with my arm pinned behind my back. I glanced around trying to see where Genny was but with no luck. The uncomfortable position was now becoming a painful one. Before I could plead for my release, Erik let go of my arm and the force of our backward motion was enough to send me falling to the floor.

I saw Genny across the room, lying on a couch. Her hands were tied behind her back and a gag had slipped around her neck. As soon as I had fallen, I pushed myself upwards and spirited towards her. I pulled her into my arms, calling her name. She only responds was sobbing as I cradled her. She still wore her peasant costume which was soaked with dirty water at the hem. I felt her hands which were bounded with thick black cord. I pulled at them with little success of making them loose.

"Genny…" every time I called her name, she would give a terrified moan or sob. I managed to untie the fabric of the gag that circled her neck and flung it away.

"Please. I'm here. I'm here. I'll protect you." I murmured, like trying to comfort a child. I could feel my tears finally starting to fall despite my best efforts to keep them concealed.

"The phantom….the phantom….." Genny whispered terrified.

I turned to Erik. "Let her go! You can't keep her tied up like an animal!" I threaten. I paused in my angry words as I finally got a good look at Erik and the effect overtook me.

He was the very picture of a mad man. The formidable sword still held closely to his person. The edges of his long cloak where shredded and like the hem of Genny's dress dripping with water. He wore no jacket and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and sleeve. His hair, which he had always made great effort to comb back, hung in front of his face, soak with his own sweat. His mask has titled downward, exposing the top of his waxen forehead and falling below his eyes, leaving nothing but shadows peering out. His lips were curled in a sneer.

He stalked towards me. "Forgive me if I'm not inclined to submit to your requests, my love." I try to shield Genny with my out-stretched arms, but I only provided the perfect target for Erik to snatch my limb and drag me to my feet once more. He kept me upright as he fished for an item in his pocket. He held out the plain gold ring in front of me. I turned from the sight of it.

"I told you. As long as you wear this ring, you will be safe. You would have had my protection…" he hissed.

"And you promised in return that you would not interfere with my life above. That you wouldn't harm my friends and now you've put all their lives in danger!" I countered.

His fingers closed around the ring forming a fist. He raised his hand and looked as if he wanted to throw it across the room. He paused, a raging sigh escaping his mouth.

"You broke your promise to me. You put everything and everyone in danger the moment you agreed to put on this ring with no intention marrying me; no intention of keeping your word. Isn't that right, Christine?" He pulled me closer to his face. "You played me for a fool. You pretended to love me when all you really felt for me was disgust. You couldn't fathom being the bride of such a hideous wretch!" he accused.

I wanted to cry in pain, but I felt that even my pleas would fall on deaf ears at this point. "Only because I was frightened!" I protested. "What would you have done if I refused? You would have destroyed everyone I loved and if I said no, I knew that would kill you. I've already lied to protect you so many times. I've done terrible things. I couldn't bear knowing that I had again caused another person so much pain. Especially you, my maestro, my teacher, my friend."

He didn't loosen his grip. "But what choice did I have?" I stammered in desperation. "Now I know that _even you_ couldn't keep your promise to me. How can I be your wife and live with knowing all the pain you have caused? How can I accept you now?" He reached to straighten his mask, projecting an aura of uncaring indifference to my implorations. "Your face doesn't upset me anymore, for I know that your soul is the most truly terrifying about you." I pulled at my arm but could not break free. Erik reached a hand towards my chin and brought our faces together, the tip of my nose just brushing the cool leather of the mask.

"Then tell me you truly don't love me." He demanded. "You'll be the greatest actress on this earth if you can honestly admit that you have no feelings for me, Christine. It has been an impressive show you have put on so far."

I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my chest. I knew that Raoul must be listening to every word. I thought of the heat in the torture chamber rising. I thought of Genny, driven to insanity. What good would it do them if I angered Erik by denying him?

Inwardly, I could recognize that my true fear was denying to myself that I loved him.

"I love you, but you horrify me…" my voice cracked as I spoke. I could see the eyes behind the mask shut in disappointment. I had removed his mask twice and seen the terror of those terribly beautiful eyes contorted in pain and sorrow. If I should live a thousand years I would always be haunted by that look of agony and I would give anything to never have to see Erik look that way at me again.

His hand relaxed for a moment, letting the blood flow back into my compressed fingertips. He reached over and caressed my face. The cold tips of his fingers gave my skin a stinging impression when mixed with the heat of my cheek. My whole body seemed to be convulsing after the affect of the torture chamber. My lips were cracking enough to bleed and my skin felt the uncomfortable sensation of pin and needles rising from below the surface of my flesh. It would only get worse as I had no doubt I had more trials to face.

His tenderness was short lived as he pulled at my wrist and dragged me across the room near the organ. I pressed my feet into the floor to stop him, calling franticly that he needed to let me help Genny. His strength was enough to lift me off my stumbling feet and continue in his course.

"Well, you are fortunate this evening, mademoiselle Daae!" he spat. "Not only have I spared your live, I will give you choice of how you chose to spend the rest of your precious time on earth!" He let me go, letting me drop to on the organ bench. He pointed to a shelf carved into the wall with two decorative caskets. He opened each lid and with a menacing wave of his hand gestured to me to come for a closer look. Inside of each was a figurine cut out of black stone: a scorpion and a grasshopper.

"Observe my fine pets Christine." Erik laughed. "Aside from being very pretty to look at; they serve another important function. These will be the devices that you make your final decision with." His hand captured mine again but instead of crushing it he held it gently and delicately stroked the top of it. "If you turn the scorpion, you will let me know that you have chosen life with me. That you will hold yourself to the promise to become part of my life and share in my loneliness. However, if you turn the grasshopper, you will reject me and then you can be reunited with your precious boy...**in death**."

I screamed and stepped away. "You would kill me!" I shrieked in shock. Erik only smiled.

"No, you will make the choice to do that; not I. You know that I hate to see you in pain, so the thought of me ending your life...is unthinkable. Even for someone as evil as I." he explained in a clipped gentlemanly tone. "Christine, you are a clever girl and because of such, I will treat you with the respect your intelligence deserves. You see, if you turn the scorpion, you will make a present of their lives to your dear Vicomte as well as hundreds of you fellow Parisians."

I shook my head. "If I marry you..." I trailed off. Erik had complemented my intellect; but I had no clue what he was alluding at. "Erik, what have you done? What do you mean?" Across the room, I heard Genny give another mad sob and I turned to her direction.

One of Erik's fingers reached up and turned my chin back to face him again. "This scorpion has a sting, but it is nothing to compare to the grasshopper when he jumps. Beware the grasshopper, Christine, for he_ hops jolly high_!" he threated.

I pulled my head and hand away from him. I walked back over to Genny on the couch and tried to work free the cord on her limbs frantically. Erik didn't stop me, he just watched. I ran over to the kitchen to the drawer to find a knife. I pulled it out and tried to find one in the cluster of cutlery to no avail. I emptied the contents onto the table and found nothing sharper than a spoon. I cursed, realizing that Erik would have gotten rid of the knife after my attempt to kill myself. Erik was no fool. Why would he give me access to anything in his house that I could turn into a weapon against him?

I looked back at him and then at Genny. His gaze hadn't left me and those mad eyes behind the mask greeted me with a surprisingly calm look. Genny however had her eyes locked on Erik, who still had the sword hanging by his side. Now he was tapping the end of it in an impatient tempo.

I couldn't panic. That was what Erik wanted. I think he secretly wanted me to reach for the grasshopper in my desperation to rid myself of him. But I was clueless to what his threats had meant. I only knew one thing for certain: If I rejected him, he would destroy everything and everyone. I had no doubt of that. We stood there in some bizarre standoff, waiting for the other to move.

Erik tilted his head and then looked across the room. "Did you hear that, Christine?"

I shook my head no. "It's not unreasonable to assume that you would have an army of suitors coming to your rescue. I heard one of them just now, at the lake. Are there indeed more of your lovers coming to rescue you from the monster?" he inquired, distain dripping from every word.

"I didn't hear anything, Erik. " I protested. "Please, you're frightening me." He started to stalk to the door and I ran to stop him.

"I shall give you an hour to make your decision, Christine."

I grabbed his arm. "I don't need an hour. I'll choose now. If you will spare Raoul and the others I will marry you! I swear it." I cried.

He didn't even stop his determined pace and flung my arm away. "Don't be so rash with your decision. An eternity in darkness awaits you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take care of our unwelcome guest." he pointed to the door. "One hour Christine." and with only a few long strides he had vanished to the other side of the door.

I turned to the caskets, then to the door. I couldn't think of anyone else who knew that I was down here; much less find the house on the lake themselves. I returned to Genny and finally finished untying the knots and freeing her hands. She flung herself into my arms, still sobbing. Once again, she was that broken woman I had seen the night of the masquerade. Mumbling apologizes and unaware what she was saying or doing. I grabbed a throw from one of the other chairs and wrapped her in it, using the ends to wipe the tears from her face.

"Christine...Christine. I'm so sorry." she sobbed. Her fingers dug into my shoulders like a helpless child who didn't want to let go. I gave her a kiss on her forehead and offered my arms to her again, feeling the guilt over the situation weigh down on me. It was only a brief embrace I could offer because my attention turned back to Raoul and the torture chamber.

"Genny, I'm sorry and I'm going to change all of this." I stood up and went over to the wall with the door to the torture chamber. It was indeed the same one I had opened by mistake. "Raoul! Raoul!" I called out. I heard no answer. Terror raced through me at the thought that he could already be dead. I started tearing around the room, knocking over music on the piano and looking through the scattered items on the floor in an attempt to find the keys.

"Christine?" a weak voice croaked from the other side.

"Raoul?" I called again.

"You must open the door..." he pleaded. His soft painful voice tore at my heart.

"I can't. Erik has taken the keys!" I cried. "Raoul, I'm sorry."

"Mademoiselle." Now it was the Persian calling. "You must not touch anything! I overheard you. Do not trust Erik!"

"He has given me an hour. If I marry him, I can save your lives." I reasoned. "What other choice do I have?" I gave a nervous glance back to the caskets. "He said if I turn the grasshopper, it will mean I chose to end my life. What does he mean?"

"I can only guess, but remember, Erik is a master criminal and he is capable of anything." he coughed and I pressed my ear to the wall to hear him better. "No doubt the grasshopper is some sort of trip that could cause and explosion, a fire, anything. I have seen him use the same method to destroy his enemies before."

My heart dropped. Erik meant to unite us all in death. That was meaning behind the threat of how I would spend the rest of my time on earth. He meant to destroy us all.

"Then I must turn the scorpion."

"No! Do not think for a second that his love for you would be enough to turn his deceitful nature. There is a good chance he is lying. The scorpion may not offer you your freedom, but seal your fate."

Did Erik doubt me? Did he think I would deny him and accept death over a life with him? He had given me all his love and now treated me with cynical contempt. Even under that mask of hatred, I believe he knew me better. I would not sacrifice others for my sake. Why else had I agree to stay with him, to ruin myself and cater to his request if only to save my friends from his wrath?

"I don't believe that to be true. Whatever I choose, my life is over."

"Christine...don't..." Raoul sounded even weaker.

I heard footstep and a great commotion at the door. "He's coming."

Standing, I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I return to Genny who was still holding her arms across her chest and shaking like a frightened animal. I waited by her side, counting every agonizing second until Erik reappeared in the doorway.

He was soaked to the skin. He pulled off his cloak and it fell with a sickening thick sound into a heap on the floor. His skeletal arms shown through his cold wet dress shirt, and the water in his hair caused it to lengthen, falling onto his shoulders. He tossed aside an item that I could not see and I heard it roll away. He no longer carried his sword.

Erik turned to face us and Genny screamed. Her hands trashed wildly about her trying to get away. I saw one long fingernail swipe across her cheek and cut her. I pulled her arms to her side and trapped them with one arm while taking the other and pressing her sobbing head into my shoulder with the other to shield her from the sight. Erik had lost his mask in the lake and his death head starred back at us. He approached with slow deliberate steps. Genny was still wailing and quivering, her tears staining my shoulder. I kept my eyes fixed on Erik, looking directly into his eyes and not letting my gaze slip.

"Oh, how must I frighten you." he teased. "What a state I am in. But it is not my fault Christine. Our guests have picked a most unpleasant time to come calling and they should have been wary...about the siren of the lake." I listened to his mad speech with a calm expression, not letting any sign show that he was upsetting me.

"Erik, you should change your clothes." I stated. "You must be cold and you could..."

"I'm quite use to being cold." Erik cut me off with a bow. "One must get use to such unpleasantness, when one is born a freak like me. I do thank you for your concern, Christine." He bent his forehead over mine and I watched the lips beneath the hole that served as his nose twist into a smile. "How good it is to have someone show concern for me. How good it is for someone to care. Perhaps within the hour, I will know if I can look forward to this kindness for the rest of my life. That is…if you agree to be mine."

"No Christine!" I heard Raoul's voice call from the other side of the torture chamber. "Don't do it."

Erik's smile vanished and he turned a half lidded gaze toward the opposite side of the room. "A pity he is not dead yet." he whispered.

"Erik, I have made my choice." I kept my hands around Genny and now I squeezed her tightly, trying to find the strength for what I had to say next. "Erik, swear to me that you haven't deceived me. If I turn the scorpion, it will not cause anyone harm."

One of his fingers snaked out and planted itself under my chin. "Christine, my clever girl. You've figured it out...or perhaps you had some help." His eyes darted away and then back to me again. "Indeed, should you choose to turn the grasshopper, you will ignite the switch that will start a very nasty explosion. You see, I've had many years to collect enough gunpowder to wipe the Opera Garnier right off the map."

"But why, Erik? Why would you even think of such a horrible thing to do?" I asked. I thought of Erik's passion for opera and music and what would possess him to destroy possible the one thing he loved more than me.

"Why? Why should others have the honor of hearing great music; of seeing great beauty when the world has denied me beauty so many times? They are so privileged and they take everything for granted. They have never known the pain I have suffered. But enough of me, Christine. Why don't you see for yourself? Turn the grasshopper and you will have an entirety to contemplate why!"

Erik's finger was pressing so hard against the bottom of my jaw that I could barely speak. I let go of Genny for a moment to push his hand aside, before returning to my previous position once more. I pressed my chin into the top of Genny's head and she returned my fierce embrace with frighten intensity.

"I will marry you. If I stay with you Erik, you must let Raoul live." I stated with as much authority as I could muster. "You will spare their lives. You promise me this. Their lives for mine." I glanced back at him and thought of his cruel proclamation of how promises were for fools. We both had spoken of promises and broken oaths, and I now I knew that Erik did not care to be honorable for anyone. He couldn't even keep a promise even when he was getting the better end of the bargain, but I had to find some trust in him one last time. "If you can't give me your word, then you may as well turn the grasshopper yourself."

Erik nodded. He rose and offered his arm to me. I reluctantly let go of Genny, and let her fall back onto the chaise, careful to keep her face still turned away. Erik led me back over to the caskets, and I tried not to show my discomfort of my arm touching the freezing fabric of his shirt. With a grand gesture he presented me to the macabre display once more. Without a word, my hand reached forward, touched the scorpion and felt it rotate within my hand.

Nothing. I was inwardly bracing myself for anything and waited a few long seconds as silence passed. Then I heard the rushing of water, a far way sound that seemed to resound around the perimeter of the room.

"What's happening?"

"The water from the lake is drowning the gunpowder in the cellars." Erik explained. My eyebrows went up. "Don't worry my dear, you are in no danger of getting wet."

I knew that I was no longer the one in any danger. "Erik, please. I've done what you asked. Now you must open the torture chamber." I insisted. I expected more snide remarks from Erik, but he only nodded and withdrew his set of keys from his pocket and walked towards the torture chamber. He opened the door and I saw the hellish red light from within and hoped I wasn't too late.

"Gentlemen, you are free to go. My _wife_ has bought your freedom." he called out. "Exit slowly, with your hands where I can see them." My eyes locked on the door until finally I saw another shadow from within the red light and the Persian appeared into the room, his arms extended before him. Raoul followed behind him, his hands in a similar position. He didn't look at me and my heart fell, knowing that he refused to acknowledge me. He looked at Erik and I saw his eyes widen in horror for a brief second before filling with hatred again. I knew all too well what he was thinking. The woman he loved was rejecting him once more.

Erik turned and gave a graceful bow in my direction. "Observe, I present you with your wedding gift." he addressed me. As soon as his back was lowered, I saw Raoul lunged forward and put his hands around Erik's neck. They both screamed and within seconds that were on the floor, pulling and tearing at one another. Raoul's grip was tight around Erik's neck and Erik's hand struck Raoul's mid-section in attempt to wound him. I shouted for them to stop. The Persian took a step forward to attempt to pull them apart, but quickly made the decision not to interfere. Erik made a horrible gasping sound which was enough to call me to action. I moved towards them. Then I saw Erik strike at Raoul once more, driving his knee between his legs. Raoul buckled and like lighting, Erik had the upper hand and was on top of him.

"Stop it!" I cried, but Erik's hand had already found Raoul's throat and was returning his assault in kind.

The Persian called across the room to me. "Run!" But I didn't move. I watched in helpless horror as Raoul's arms flailed wildly about him. I was as unmovable as a statue not wanting to leave. I heard the Persian call again. I heard Genny still sobbing but they were like distance echoes in my ear as I watched. Raoul managed to find enough control of one of his hands and reached behind him. I saw the flash of the pistol he pulled from his waist band and I blinked. I heard the gunshot explode throughout the room. The pistol flew back from Raoul's hands and clattered on the other side of the floor.

Erik dropped like a stone onto the floor. The breath I took ignited me like a cannon and transformed into a scream bursting from my lips. I ran to them. Raoul pushed Erik off of him and caught my arm before I could reach his fallen form.

"Christine, come." he called. "We must leave now!" My breath quicken as I continued to stare at Erik. He didn't stir. He didn't even give a cry of pain. My heartbeat was growing faster and louder, sounding in my ears. Now Raoul was pulling at my arm with more urgency, enough to cause my feet to move backward. My resolved only increased and with all my strength I flung myself towards Erik. I wrapped my arms around his back, feeling the sting of cold invade my clothes as they touched.

He was so cold.

"Christine, enough!" Raoul called again in exasperation. He touched my shoulder and I jerked rounded.

"No!" I hissed, slapping his hands away. "No, no, no..." I repeated over and over again. Each time the word passed my lips, my tears increased. "How could you? Raoul, how could you?" I wailed.

One of my greatest fears had come to pass. I let my head fall next to his. His hair covered his face and I couldn't hear him breathing. I was paralyzed with fear. I should have been checking his body for a wound. I should have turned him so he could breathe but I only laid there, shaking and crying out his name.

"Erik, you can't be dead." I pressed my mouth next to his ear, my hands shaking his shoulders. "Don't leave me." I begged. "Don't leave me."

The room was silent save for my pitiful cries of despair. I could feel what hope I had left die inside me. I had earned my freedom at a terrible price. Erik had wronged me and committed terrible sins, but even he didn't deserve a death like this. To be betrayed by the only person he loved and left to die alone.

"God, please….please don't leave me…"

I felt a stirring beneath my fingers. I jerked upright it shock. Then a sharp intake of breath, followed by another. I felt my entire body go still in anticipation, waiting to hear more.

A hollow laugh shattered the silence. The sound crawled out from underneath Erik's form and filled the entire space. I watched as he lifted his head and saw his mouth moving in time with the laugh; that hideous laugh. With uncanny speed, he rose up, reached over and entrapped me in his arms before sitting up to his full height. I looked at him.

A patch of bloody skin shown from underneath the fabric of his shirt. The bullet had torn through the top of his shoulder leaving a gouge across his flesh. However the rest of him was unmarked. I breathed the quickly sigh of relief before I realized once again that I had been tricked. Erik pressed me against his form even tighter and I turned my head away.

Erik caressed the side of the face, continued his ugly laugh. "Ah Christine, my angel." He turned his attention to Raoul, who looked on, stunned. He made a move towards us, but the Persian caught his arm and stopped him mid-stride. "Observe, M. de Chagny." Erik spat out his name like he was expelling poison from his lips. "Christine has chosen me. Even in your feeble attempt to destroy me, she rejected you for me." Erik's month turned and buried itself in my hair. He spoke in a loud whisper so that all could hear him. His voice, dripping with confidence ripped through me "I had no reason to ever doubt her love for me...she is mine."


	33. Act Three: Chapter Nine

Erik wasted no time in leading me away to my room. I no longer was putting up any type of physical struggle as he took my arm and guided me up the stairs. My whole body felt limp. I could only watch as I was pulled away from Raoul, who only looked at me, dumbfounded.

I feared that he, like me, had also given up the fight. I had given my word to Erik that I would marry him. I was sick of breaking promises. I was done lying and putting others at risk. I was willing to trade it all if only to make it stop. I had even been given a chance to escape once more, when all seemed lost, but my heart made my decision for me. It chose Erik. My resolve was weak, and the thought of him dead had been enough to turn the tide. Erik left my side for a moment to fetch more of the cord that he had bound Genny with. I knew what he intend to do.

"Don't…" I pleaded. I glanced briefly at Raoul. "I have given you my word. I will marry you, Erik, and I won't let anyone interfere." He nodded and I could hear Raoul's footsteps as he backed away from another confrontation. The truth was, I was ashamed to look at him in the eye.

I saw Raoul's hopeless gaze follow me as I was carried away, before the door closed behind me.

Displayed before me was a beautiful arrangement of candles and flowers, and on my bed lay the centerpiece; a wedding gown. I stared at it for a long moment, and when I did not express my interest soon enough, Erik nudged me forward to examine it.

The yards of crisp ivory fabric seemed to engulf the bedspread. I pressed my hand into the deep folds on the fabric close around it. The bodice was interlaced with crystal beads in delicate patterns to resemble flowers. Every edge seemed covered with lace from the thinnest thread I had ever seen. Layers of ivory chiffon were gathered along the front of the skirt in uniformed crescent shapes. Perfectly executed rows of pleated ruffles lined the over skirt and train, stretched back from the front of the garment. There was no denying that it was one of the most beautiful gowns I had ever seen.

Erik's hand came back to my shoulder as he watched me. I turned abruptly and found myself face to face with him. A gasp escaped my lips unwillingly as I gazed on his unmasked face. His face fell with mine as he witnessed my disgust, and his lids closed over his intense gold eyes. I reached out to him, attempting to make amends, but he shunned me. His hand rushed to his face, covering his horrible dead mouth and misshaped cheeks, and he turned, showing me his back.

"Oh, forgive me for being...so ugly." he moaned. I looked up at his shoulder. It wasn't very deep, but I could still see blood pulsing up from underneath his stained shirt. I pressed my hand to it, but Erik pushed it aside.

"You're hurt...please." I said, reaching out to him once more. Erik shielded me by clamping his hand over the wound. He rounded the bed and pulled at the inter-lapping folds of the dress and the bedspread. He pulled out a long veil, made with the same gossamer lace from the dress. He held it aloof and even with his exceptional height; it was long enough to drag on the floor.

"It can wait." Erik replied, even though I could clearly see him wince as he spoke. He could not conceal as much from me without the aid of his mask. "But this cannot." He held out the veil to me. "I have waited long enough for this. Christine, I want to be like other men. I want a wife. You made a promise and I will not give you another chance to change your mind." he demanded.

I took the veil and nodded. I was starting to cry again, and I knew my tears were hurting him more than any physical wound. I wiped my face with my dirty sweat-stained sleeve. His fingers helped brush away my tears.

"Save me, Christine. Love me and I will make you the happiest of women." he pleaded. I nodded. Any act of defiance now would have doomed us all, including Erik. Yet, I could not continue to listen to his sad pleas that tore at my heart much longer. I would do anything to end it. I realized I was standing there in silence and tried to make an attempt at an assuring gesture. I reached to touch the hand he held against my cheek, but he pulled away.

"I shall give you an hour to say your prayers and make yourself ready." he instructed. "By then I hope you will be sufficiently prepared to make your wedding vows." He marched off to the door.

I called to him in a panic. "Erik?"

He seemed to know the question I wanted to ask. "Do not fret, Christine. I will not harm our guests. You have spared their lives and I will comply with your wishes." he answered before disappearing behind the door.

I surveyed my room once more. I admired the preparation that had been made to make it feel like a cozy bridal suite. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the gown and could only imagine the intense preparation to provide me with such a fine dress. If only it could have happened under different circumstances, actually any other circumstances than this.

Shedding my costume, I made my way over to my dresser to wash my face. I bathed my skin in the still water, which had gone cold. I could see dirt and grime peel away from my skin. I observed it intently and took my time in brushing the washcloth across my arm. Anything to keep my mind from wondering what was happening down below.

An elaborate bustle was placed next to the dress, and I sat at the edge of my bed staring at it for a long while. In the still silence of the room, my heart beat viciously against my breast, like the ticking of a tower clock. Counting down the longest hour of my life.

Reluctantly, I faced the task at hand. I examined the back of the gown with its long row of buttons and frowned, knowing there was no possible way I could fasten each one by myself. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a red face rubbed nearly raw by my washcloth staring back at me. I saw a plain girl in boy's trousers and tangled curls and I cursed as the realization dawned on me that again I had my breasts still bound. My face went even redder as I had a vivid flashback to the night I had asked Erik to help me get undressed. When I had tempted him and caused him to cross the line. My invitation to kiss me had sealed his resolve. That brief moment had brought me so much pleasure back then and tortured my every waking moment afterwards.

I choked out a sob as I turned away from the mirror, ashamed. My fingers angrily clawed at my bindings, tearing them free. I cried out as I stretched around my back in a desperate attempt to reach the laces of my corset. By some miracle, I succeeded in reaching them, and still in a panicked rage, pulled them out one by one.

I felt that all my strength had been sapped out of me. Then I continued with the rest of the process at a sluggish pace. I was nearly dead on my feet and plagued by the curiosity of how Erik wanted this wedding to proceed. I managed to change my underpinnings, brush my hair, and put on my gown with little enthusiasm. I managed to stretch my fingers once more to fasten the buttons up my back halfway before I could go no further.

My eyes, heavy with sleep, continued to glance at my bed eagerly. There was no clock in my room and I was too terrified to leave, so I had no idea how much time had passed. My ears detected no sound coming from beyond the door or hinted at any commotion underneath my feet. I took a seat on the edge of the bed and it wasn't too long afterwards that my tired body succumbed to the need for rest and laid down. Between the heat of the candles and layers of fabric encasing me, my body felt much too warm to be comfortable. The sensation of the torture chamber's intense heat once again disturbed my thoughts, but even that was not enough to keep me awake.

A trickle of warm breath descended from above me, rousing me from my slumber. I reached to touch my neck were I had felt its comforting heat upon my skin and soon my hand was joined by another, equally warm and calm.

"Christine..."

As I rolled onto my stomach, I craned my neck over my shoulder to see Erik standing before me. His gloved hand hovered in the air above me. He had changed into formal tails and he appeared quite handsome in a white waistcoat and a crisp velvet-lined jacket. He seemed eager to complete the illusion by wearing the mask he had painted to resemble a flawless face.

"Are you ready?"

I answered by putting my hand in his and letting him lift me off the bed. His fingers reached back around to my neck to touch the exposed flesh of my neck and back. "May I?" I nodded.

Erik shifted around the back of my dress, careful to avoid the flowing train. He was close enough that I could feel his knees pressing against me, even through the layers of fabric and my bustle. Slowly his fingers closed around each button and brought it to its mate, securing me in my dress is if he were bolting the locks on the door. After completing his task, he stepped aside and pulled a single white rose from of the vases in my room. He held it out to me.

"Christine, you look like an angel."

I pulled a part of my veil over my face to conceal the red in my cheeks. I was behaving exactly as a blushing bride should. I accepted the rose. It all seemed like a very surreal dream.

However reality came charging at me when Erik opened the door and led me out of my room. My eyes scanned over the room beneath me at the most bizarre wedding party ever assembled. The Persian stood waiting for us. His face was still flushed from his ordeal and he had managed to replace his jacket and tie, though it was a slovenly effort. Next to him on the settee, I saw the backs of two heads, each with a similar shade of blond hair, pressed next to each other; lifeless. My hand which was tucked in Erik's arm dug into the sleeve of his jacket as my whole body went rigid.

"What have you done to them?" I asked reproachfully. Erik didn't answer me. He kept his eyes forward and proceeded to lead us both down the steps at a sluggish pace. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I managed to tear myself away and rush over to the settee.

Raoul and Genny were propped against each other. Their eyes were closed and their hands hung slack at their sides. I threw my arms around Raoul, his name dying on my lips as I cried out. The sound of gentle breathing fell upon my ears and I pressed myself closer to him, hearing his heart beating placidly. My body shook with a sigh of relief as I reached over to touch one of Genny's hands, still warm and vibrating with a pulse of its own. They were still alive.

"You drugged them?" It was much more an accusation than a question. Erik had proven himself a master at concoctions several times over and I had no doubt this was his handiwork.

"Unfortunately, it was the only way to keep them quiet. They were most uncooperative." Erik retorted.

"You promised you wouldn't harm them! You promised…" Erik silenced me with a swift movement that caught my hand in his and pulled me against him.

"Your terms were that I spare their lives and I have!" I was close enough to see his teeth gritting through the hole in the mask. He had returned my anger with such force that it had rendered me speechless. I waited for a long moment until his heated gaze left my face and he turned away. "I shall play our wedding march. Say your goodbyes." He released my hand and I watched him sulk over to the organ, his confident stride now gone.

I knew my time was short. I glanced between my friends' unconscious bodies. I thought of what kind of hell I had led them through only to leave them now like this. I pulled Genny's hand in my own, rubbing it gently. Her only wish had been for us to succeed, to be united in triumph on the stage together. She had defied her family and her position in society. She had chosen music over love, and now she was suffering the consequences for it.

I pressed my hand against her cheek, letting her head be cradled within my palm. I thought I even saw the hint of a smile cross her face in her restless slumber. I prayed that this ordeal that I had dragged her through had not cost her the price of her sanity after all. I pressed a kiss on her hand as a stream of thunderous notes flew from the organ.

My body was now shaking once more, shuddering from my angry and helpless tears. I looked at my hands still holding Genny's for a long moment as the excited opening of Erik's march transformed into a somber melody. I wasn't even sure if I had the will-power to even look at Raoul now, but I knew this would be my last chance.

My tears only increased as I knelt next to Raoul's frame. A strange sensation penetrated the back of my throat with an odd tingle as I gazed at his still body. I raised myself up to put my arms around his neck. I let my fingers graze the back of his neck, feeling the stubble under his hair line of hard follicles grazing the surface. I pressed my cheek against his, letting the soft hair from his forehead and lips nuzzle against me. I wanted to stay longer. I wanted to savor the sensation of holding him, savor the feeling I would never have again. I knew to stay would destroy me, as I would always live with the knowledge of what could never be.

"Raoul...Raoul." I cried. "My brave Raoul..." I pressed my lips to his cheek, giving him one last kiss. "Forgive me."

He might has well have been dead. It was like kissing a corpse.

It was as if I were standing on a cliff at that moment. The abyss beckoned to me, and my eyes turned to watch the sweet memories I had shared with Raoul fly away like birds taking wing. I was haunted with the thought of how long it would take for me to forget him.

I pulled away before I was tempted to stay. As I stood, my body failed me and my unsteady feet started to sway and shift. The Persian saw my distress and reached out a hand, steadying me. The last notes of the music faded into hisses and whispers that tormented me.

"I'm so sorry mademoiselle." The Persian offered.

"No, I'm sorry. Sorry that I am the cause of so much unhappiness." I interjected. Erik lifted himself from the organ bench and turned his attention back toward us. I pulled myself up to my full height and felt a firm pressure against my hand.

"No, never apologize for wanting happiness and never deny yourself of it." The Persian whispered in my ear to avoid Erik's detection. He continued to stand there, until he finally strode towards us, again offering me his arm.

"Erik, my friend. I beg you not to do this. Do not force her into this." The Persian pleaded.

The expressionless face stared back at us, veiling Erik's annoyance. "I'm not _forcing_ Christine to do anything." he snapped. "She has chosen me. She loves me." He took a step forward, pushing his body towards the other man in a menacing gesture. "In spite of your disbelief that no one could feel such affection for me."

I stepped between them, weaving my arm beneath Erik's in order to end the confrontation. He pulled me away before I heard the Persian mutter under his breath.

"May Allah have mercy on you..."

The console of the organ served as our makeshift altar. There was no sign of a priest or a Holy Bible. Erik would conduct his wedding according to his own rules. I willed all my remaining strength into my legs to keep me upright. Erik brushed the side of my veil that had fallen against my face, tucking it back over my shoulder.

"I wish I could give you a more proper wedding, one that you deserve." He handed me the rose, and it was then I realized I had dropped it when I ran to Raoul's side. "But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved the gold ring he had given me, along with another. He looked down at my hands and I presented them face-up to him, the stem of the rose pressed against my right thumb and forefinger. He placed the ring in my right hand, and closed my fingers around it. Then he drew his attention to my left hand, and placed both his hands underneath it.

"Christine Daae, I take you as my wife. I promise to cherish you. I promise to guide you." Erik intoned and though he was masked, I could still sense that he too was crying. "I will give you my honor to be faithful and...do right. I will worship you and see that you want for nothing. All my possessions and my power I give to you, along with giving you my heart." His fingers moved slowly across the side of my hand, caressing it delicately before turning it. He paused, letting our fingers touch and I felt the excited vibration pulse through our hands.

He sighed with great effort as he placed the ring back on my finger. "With this ring, I pledge my love and my fidelity. Take this ring as token of my devotion, accept it as the embodiment of my love. Be my wife and be...my salvation." When the ring was once more secure, he curled his hand tightly around it, assuring himself that this was no dream.

Words failed me. Even if I tried to think for a year, I could not match the beauty of Erik's vows to me. I loved him, but the love he had for me was something far more powerful. It would take several lifetimes for me to fathom how deep it was. For a moment, the horrors of my failure vanished from my presence as I focused on one saving grace. I could not protect everyone. I could not save every soul.

But I could save one. Maybe that would be enough for God to grant me absolution for all my lies and sins.

"Erik..." I let his name trail off realizing that I was not privileged to even know his last name. If he even had one, or if it had been long forgotten. His silence suggested a confirmation on that thought. "Erik I take you as my husband. I promise to pledge myself to you. I promise...to be faithful."

I would never have imagined I would have to be composing my own vows, much less have to confess my love after Erik's heartbreaking adoration. Even though it was just moments ago, I couldn't even recall what he had said, so I couldn't even repeat it back to him. I opened my mouth to try to speak. I held the ring in my finger, watching it vibrate under my quivering hand. Erik had presented his hand for me to place the ring on his finger. He lowered it to touch my palm.

"Christine...Don't be afraid." he murmured softly. "My hands are shaking too." Our hands again intertwined as if he were trying to calm a child's fears. Erik could have been furious with my hesitation. He knew that I couldn't possibly match my love with his devotion to me. I was fulfilling a bargain.

He was accepting me.

I slipped the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I pledge my love and my fidelity." I managed to finally speak. "Let us be true to one another...for as long as we both shall live." Once the ring was on his finger, Erik's hands wove themselves tighter with mine and brought them up to the level of his chin, so we saw each other and our hands now graced with wedding bands.

"Then let us bear witness to our love and forever be man and wife." Erik whispered into our upheld hands, and in that moment, they stopped shaking. The reality was dawning on us, and I was certain Erik in that moment thought the unthinkable had come to pass.

There was to be no quoting of scripture, no singing the Kyrie. All of the trapping and ceremony were gone. I hadn't expected them, but it also occurred to me that these simple words, our vows, were all that we needed. Erik had waited a lifetime to say those words.

I leaned forward, knowing what he wanted. The lace from my veil fell back against my cheek with the movement. I waited for Erik to meet my gesture as he brought one hand to his mask and pulled it back to expose his lips. They pressed against my forehead, just touching my skin. The tears that he had managed to keep silent trickled from under the mask and fell upon my face. Instinctively, I stretched up my hand to wipe them away, but he shrunk back from my gesture. It hurt me to see that.

He once more linked my hand in his and led me to a chair. He knelt beside me, fixing his mask.

"You say you are sorry for causing so much unhappiness, but I tell you Christine Daae you have made me the happiest of men!" he exclaimed. I held onto his hand tightly, wanting to cling to this one sweet moment, before time would cause me to acknowledge what I had done.

Once more that surreal feeling settled over me. I had exchanged vows with a man, and in his eyes I was married to him. He moved away from me and I found myself reaching out towards...my husband.

"Wait..."

"I shall return Christine." he informed me, moving back to where the Persian stood guard over my friends. "You have kept your end of the bargain and so I must keep mine." He leaned over and scooped Genny into his arms, while I watched as The Persian shifted Raoul's limp arms over his shoulders to carry him.

I should have been repulsed at what was happening, I should have stopped it. But I was completely overwhelmed at what I had done. I watched them carry my friends out of the room and the great sound of the door closing rang out like the knell of a requiem bell; signaling the end of my life as I knew it.

After a long minute of silence, I reached up and tore the veil off my head. My fingers gripped it in furious agitation as I let my tears finally flow in desperation from my eyes. It had hurt me to see Erik now shrink back from me. Was I destined to be married to a man still afraid to love me? Or to know me in the physical sense as man and wife? Would his repulsion at his face bare him from offering me the gentle touches and kisses I craved? Would I be denied his affection?

I knew in my heart that we would both live with the knowledge that our betrayal of each other had wounded us both. Perhaps Erik's love was enough to heal that affliction, but I did not think mine was strong enough. I should have been joyous, waiting in anticipation for my husband's return; for our wedding night.

Instead I was taking a long look in the proverbial mirror and seeing myself for what I truly was. I was just as damaged as Erik. I was a sinner beyond forgiveness. I had sold my soul to save others, but that part of me was gone forever. I could never claim it again. Would I still be worthy of anyone's love after what I had done?

I sobbed into my veil until my mouth went dry. My thoughts turned to rage. I felt such hatred that Erik had made me choose in this way. I hated that he doubted me so much that he could only force me into this marriage without choice. I loved him, and he had destroyed me. I would try so hard to return his love, but I would forever live with the sense of dread and regret of how this had come to pass.

For fear that I would soon succumb to my hysterics, I stretched my hands to heaven and spoke the words that burned on my lips. "Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord...have mercy on me." I called out in my failing voice. "I know I have sinned and I have given myself to a sinner. Please have mercy on both of us. Pity my poor misguided soul and allow it to save another. I take all his sin...upon me. In your wisdom, please...God spare us both and...forgive us."

I offered up one last prayer for my dear friends. I prayed that my sacrifice had not been in vain. I knew that Erik would forgive me for all my faults, but would Raoul? He had seen me throw myself at Erik, refusing to leave his side. My actions had spoken louder than any hollow promises. I had rejected my savior in favor of my capture.

Before, my exhaustion had beckoned me to submit to sleep, but now my eyes were red with tears, causing enough feeling in them to keep me wide awake in anticipation. My back curled downward, letting my form shrink in upon itself. I feared, that I, like Genny, would end up going mad as my fears and speculations overwhelmed me.

Erik returned once more. I heard him enter through the door as my face rested against the back of the chair. I steadied myself to face him. Surely he would not be surprised to see that I had been sobbing. His perception was clouded by his passion, but he was not blinded by it. He approached me and slowly let his fingers press against my chin as I allowed him to turn my face towards him.

"Christine..." I saw on his face a smile; a genuine smile that had no trace of cynicism or deception. "Oh Christine if only you could weep that way for me." he whispered and his smile faded.

I let my mouth fall open in shock. "How can you say that?" I asked in disbelief. "Do you believe after everything that I don't care for you?"

"But who are you weeping for?" he questioned. His tone was neutral; there was no sense of mocking.

Myself. Selfishly I wanted to tell him that I was weeping for myself.

"Are they tears of pity or love?"

"My God..." I whimpered. "I just didn't want it to be like this..." I confessed. I held my hands out to him palms up, pleading to him. "Forgive me?" I begged, hoping desperately to see his smile return. He placed a comforting kiss into my palm and brought it to touch his mask, and in that brief moment, I would never know Raoul's forgiveness and would have to wait until I passed on to see if God would let someone like me to enter the gates of heaven. For this one moment, though Erik could be the only person in the world willing to offer me my absolution.

I didn't dare to ask what had happened to Raoul. I was certain that my acceptance of him as my husband would truly cement my bond to him and allow trust from him fully. Erik wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me onto my feet. His hands shuffled around the skirt of the gown, smoothing it out. "I hope you were found of your dress. It was the best I could do..." he murmured. "Since I couldn't even provide you with the wedding you deserve..." he trailed off and I noticed that edge of scared uncertainty creeping back into his voice.

I pressed my hand onto the top of his head. "Erik, it's beautiful." I felt a twinge of amusement at Erik's nervous concern about not providing me with a suitable bridal gown when he had given me a more gorgeous dress than I had ever hoped for. It was a welcome distraction from the moment as he rose back up to his feet. His arms once more found my waist and pulled me into an embrace. He stroked my back with one hand, while the other felt its way through my hair. I too allowed myself reach out my hands to explore his body. My fingers pressed against the velvet lapels of his suit and caressed it. I tried to banish all my tension and fears from me and enjoy this blissful moment.

I vowed to be the wife Erik deserved.

"My wife...my living wife." he whispered into my ear, and though his comment piqued my curiosity, I did not ask him what he meant by it. We held each other for a long moment and I knew that moments like this would become a more common occurrence in our lives as we accepted that this was _indeed real_.

"It's late." Erik informed me, catching my gaze. "I suppose we should..." I nodded in agreement and broke from him, taking a timid step towards the stairs. I moved toward the door leading to his chambers, finally ready to cross over.

He stopped me, and I looked back at him, confused.

"No Christine, for too long I have dwelt in hell." He pressed another kiss into my palm. "You are my salvation, Christine. Lead me up to heaven." His eyes turned upward toward the door of my room and we ascended, arm-in-arm. It had been the same journey I had made nightly for the past few months when I had been left without a home. Now everything was different, even though my feet stepped on the same path.

The candles in the room had burned down, making the light even fainter than before. The smell of smoke from the remaining stubs of wax filled the space and drifted in the air like a bizarre fog. However the scent of the flowers overwhelmed the scent of smoke and dying wicks.

I was suddenly seized with anxiety as I recalled Erik's words.

_Lead me up to heaven._

This was our wedding night, and I as his wife would have to submit to him.

"Christine, you're shaking." Erik observed." Are you cold?"

I didn't answer, but kept my eyes focused on the bed. After all I had faced this evening, I didn't think I had the strength to commit myself to this last inevitable task.

I suppose kisses were the least of my worries now.

"Are you frightened?" Erik seemed to guess the cause of my unspoken agitation; He leaned down and pressed his face into my neck. I stiffened, awaiting the seduction that lay before me. Erik's breath danced around the line of my jaw.

"Oh Christine...calm yourself." he assured me in a sweet tone. "All I want now is rest." He untangled my lopsided veil from my hair. "I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer. I am satisfied." He brushed my cheek with a tender stroke of his fingers. "And I will ask no more of you."

I made a great effort not to so how relieved I was. He left my side and shrugged off his tail coat. I could see a bump on his shoulder underneath his vest. No doubt this was the wound inflicted by Raoul's gun. I touched it as he looked over his shoulder at me.

"Are you all right?" he didn't move his mouth to answer. "Let me see it then." I insisted. His hand clamped over mine.

"It's nothing that a good night's rest won't heal." He turned to face me in his shirt sleeves, still looking very dapper, circumstances non withstanding. He gazed at me and I blushed as his eyes lingered on me.

"I should get ready for bed..."

"That dress looks so lovely on you, Christine. Such a pity you only get to wear it for a short time." he mused.

"Would you rather I leave it on?" I offered.

I saw the twist of shadows underneath the hole in his mask and could only hope that meant he was smiling. "I think I would like that very much."

I turned my back towards him, gesturing towards the buttons. "I would still need some help.. there are...things..." I stammered trying to find a polite way to explain to Erik that I would have to get rid of my bustle and corset first. All though I couldn't see him, I could hear the laugh in his voice.

"Of course Christine. I shall turn my back to appease your vanity." he complied, reaching out to release the buttons that he has fastened less than an hour before. Now I was very much aware of the difference in his touch. Before he had sought to hurry the process along. He was eager to close me into this dress and cover my sinful flesh. Now he was exposing me once more and he was taking his time. My neck and shoulders should have relaxed after being freed from the stiff confines of my dress, but they remained stiff. I could sense his gloved handed lingering over me, but he did not reach down to touch me. He did not pursue me any further.

In a mix of relief and disappointment, I shuffled off to one corner of the room and slipped the bodice from my shoulder. Quickly I unfastened my corset in the front, and intertwined my fingers into the strings of my bustle. I let the garments pool beneath my feet and lifted my long skirt as I stepped over them.

Erik stood at the foot of the bed, looking across its surface. He was still and I cursed the fact that he had chosen to wear that unsettling mask. I couldn't see his mouth or his eyes. I wanted to know that he was just as frightened as I was. With a slow turn of his head, Erik regarded me and I moved to stand by his side. His fingers once more reached up into my hair, weaving themselves back into the thick strands.

Then his fingers left my hair and his hands pressed against my back and thigh. I was lifted into the air and then set gracefully down on top of the bed covers. Erik let his body descend with mine and he stretched out next to me, keeping one hand at my side while the other pressed against my face. I returned his gesture by placing my hand at the side of his mask, wishing desperately that I could touch his real face instead of this facade. I thought of all the times Erik had held me before. When he had carried me to bed, comforted me through my nightmares and tended to me after I had stabbed him.

"Sleep well, my dear Christine." Erik whispered as I watched the eyes behind the mask close shut.

"Good night Erik." I replied, and let memories of those times wash over me. I hoped that from now on I could accept his touch without fear or suspicion. It had been so wonderful being held in his arms before.

I closed my eyes.

"My living wife..." Erik called one more time before we both fell asleep, the clear sound of tears in his voice.

* * *

><p>AN: Even though I'm an ardent EC shipper this chapter took me so long to write! Why was it so hard and frustrating? I have no clue should have been a piece of cake.

Also I'm painfully away that Christine would not be able to get in and out of period clothes so easy. I studying costume history and worked in the field so I'm sure for the dress I was envisioning it was have taken several pair of hands to put on. But this is a work of fiction.


	34. Act Three: Chapter Ten

We passed the night in countless and blissful hours of sleep. I was genuinely surprised to wake up with Erik still beside me. He had not left me during the night to pursue his other activities. He had boasted on several occasions that sleep was not a priority to him.

He has one arm draped over my side. I had shifted during the night so my back was pressed against his torso. His knees bent across the bed spread and flatten the back of my skirt. My eyes closed and opened several times before I found myself fully awake and I listened to any sounds to indicate Erik's peaceful state of slumber. The skin on my cheeks felt dry and tight and I brushed it against the soft woven fabric of my pillow to provide some relief.

"Let stay like this Christine..." Erik's strange angelic voice fell upon my ear. He was awake.

I smiled. "If you insist...but for how long?" I asked

He sighed. "Forever."

I reached my hand from above my head and pressed it against his wrist that lay across my chest.

"Forever is a long time." I pointed out.

"And yet to experience this happiness forever...would be still too short."

He and I were very much awake by now, but we continued to lay there for several more hours. I think we both kept our eyes open listening to the other one breathomh and contemplating how our marriage had come to past. I looked down at our feet. Erik's long leg still clad in black trousers almost stretched off the end of the bed. I even dared to take his hand and press it closer to my heart, covering it with mine.

A brief flash of terror shot through me. I felt the inward revulsion at the memory of Frederich's hands on my body; Digging into my arms and pinching my breast. I had come so close to having my virginity stolen from me. I banished it from my mind quickly and pressed Erik's hand tighter in assurance. Erik had often bemoaned his fate of not being as normal men .I was so grateful now that he was not a man like that.

Erik seemed to sense something and responded by bringing his other arm close to be in a comforting embrace. When we finally managed to pull ourselves apart, we examined each other in our now wrinkled formal wear. I couldn't help but grin but I looked up at Erik and was once again disappointed that I could not see his expression. He had kept his mask on. That lifeless mask with its painted brows and cheeks. My grin faded. How I hated that mask.

"Erik, would you do me a favor?" I asked.

"What ever you wish."

"Please, take off that mask." I begged. I saw his hands fly up to his face like a pair of birds frightened out of their nest.

"You know I can't do that Christine. Not even for you." he muttered.

"But I am your wife now. I have seen your face. There is nothing new to shock me." I reasoned. "I want to see your eyes, and your smile."

"With a face like mine, what makes you think I have anything to smile about?" he snarled, taking a few steps away from me. My hands hung limp in defeat at my side.

"Nothing...to smile about?" I mused. His head leaned forward as he examined me. He saw my wedding gown and my unbound hair. He saw my hands opened in a pleading fashion and recognized his mistake.

"Forgive me Christine. You are right." he admitted. "I spoke out of selfish hate. I must learn to correct that." He stepped forward and brought my hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. "I'm...just not sure of myself...if I can do this now."

"I do not love this strange face. I love the man underneath it." I pleaded. I touched the edge of his mask, caressing it before I placed my fingers underneath. Erik's hand covered mine and stopped me.

"Very well, but not yet. Not now." I let him guide my hand away. "I suppose we must finally wake up from this dream and face our reality." He leaned forward and brought the lips of the mask to rest on my cheek. "Oh but what a happy reality it is."

He left my room and I took the opportunity to change out of my dress and into fresh clothes. I washed myself again and stared longingly into the closet. I observed that the number of gowns that I had seen before. Ones that belongs to the opera's wardrobe collection. I started to take them out one by one and separated them to the other side of the closet. I could no longer let these things make me doubt my love for Erik or the measures he had taken to win me.

After settling on a simple blouse and skirt, I made my bed and then joined Erik downstairs. He had changed into causal shirtsleeves and had fixed his black mask over his face. This time, I prepared us a meal and Erik ate it willingly. I informed him I would like to do the cooking from now on since his culinary skills left something to be desired.

"Then I suppose I should acquire proper cooking equipment and ingredients for you my dear." he mused while presenting me with his cleaned plate. "Is that what you want?"

I took the plate away from him and braced myself to make my demand. I was still in fear of saying anything that might upset him.

"Yes Erik, and I would like it very much if you would return the dresses in my wardrobe." I started watching him as he fixed me with an unreadable gaze "And if you could please return anything else that you have...taken." I chose my last word carefully.

He drummed his long fingers against the kitchen table in a methodic rhythm as I awaited his reaction.

"Not now." he stated.

I forgot my wish not to wound him for a brief moment. "Why?"

"Because I think after the events of last night, I think it would be unwise for either of us to be seen in the Opera." He stood and linked his arm around mine. "I'm afraid we will have to stay down here for the time being."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"That sigh indicates that something is troubling you." Erik pointed out. I shook my head for he had truly misinterpreted it.

"No, I was only worrying about troubling you." I admitted. I glanced down at my arm intertwined with his. He was pressed close enough to me that I could feel the soft tweed of his vest pressing though my hair and brushing against my cheek. He had forgone his usual black attire and wore pleasing warm colors. He had changed. We both had.

He gave a small chuckle. "Christine, what do I have to be troubled about anymore?" He scooped up my hand and gave it another sweet kiss.

He was lying to himself. We both were lying to each other.

The following week past by us both marked only by a series of small happy events. Long talks during meals, and hours of playing the piano seems to disguise our marriage as something completely normal. We could have just as well live in a flat on a quiet street, instead of five levels underground; our behavior seemed so at ease. I would be lying if I did not say my thoughts sometimes drifted to the world above and concern for my friends.

Thankfully our home and the cellars surrounded it had been quite. Either no one had come to investigate the terrible occurrences of that evening, or no one had any clue what had happen to us in the ensuing panic.

Raoul and Genny were safe and hopefully by now out of Paris. People would know that they were safe and let their curiosity be satisfied. I was certain no one would give much concern to the amateur soprano Christine Daae and her whereabouts. Yet we both seemed tense with fear and I noticed Erik became distracted from our activities in the sitting room and I would look up to see him staring at the locked door.

Just as before, Erik made every effort to make his home seem less like a prison. After all meals, Erik would fetch me anything I wanted. I found out on a daily basis how many things he had acquired while being forced to live underground. He brought me more books, paper and pens for drawing, and even supplies for sewing. I took part in each activity in turn while Erik amused me with music on the organ or the violin.

With each compassionate gesture, he sought to destroy the memory of his sinful actions. With each gentle caress of his hand, he tried to dismiss every time he had lashed out at me. Slowly, with each touch he was claiming me.

However, at night he still kept his distance. He allowed me to dress for bed without intruding on my privacy. I would fall asleep and rarely woke to find him next to me. No doubt his love of music distracted him and kept him away from me or fear.

His words from the night we shared our first kiss always came back to haunt me every time he shied away from me. I too feared that if I tempted him, it would unleash a dangerous passion within him that neither of us would be able to control. I could not live as husband and wife if he continued to turn away from me. It would be a loveless marriage and I did not doubt any lack of love on Erik's part.

He stepped into my room one night after I had removed my undergarments and slipped into simple cotton night gown. He bowed his head in a formal fashion towards me. "Good night Christine. I hope you have a pleasant sleep."

"Will you not join me?" I asked boldly though I kept my voice soft and meek. I glanced up to see that Erik was staring at the floor, particularly at the swaying hem of my gown.

"Would I not disturb you?"

"Not at all, in fact..." I bit on my tongue trying to think of my next words. "I would prefer it if we went to bed together from now on. We are married."

"Is that what you desire ,my wife?" his question was filled with doubt.

"Yes, please do not confess to love me Erik and then turn away from me." I sat down on the edge of the bed. I used a hand to smooth out my dress. Erik stood beside me and lifted my hand to kiss it. In that moment, I pressed my hand against the side of his face, pressing my fingertips into the small patch of flesh revealed from behind the mask. Erik pressed his hand against mine. "Why else would I have married you?" I ask and could guess his immediate answer. Which I why I had a prepared explanation already at the tip of my tongue. "If I had no affection for you what so ever, I wouldn't have agreed to stay in the first place. Please...please show me I did not make the wrong choice."

He sighed and sat down beside me on the bed. After a quick glance in my direction, he leaned over and pressed his lips against my cheek, the first real kiss he had made with me since our wedding night. I felt the edges of his mask press against my skin.

"Erik, you may take off your mask." I stated.

On hearing that, he sprung away from me as if my body were a pillar of flame. "What are you playing at?" he asked with a snarl.

I stood up next to him and caught his face between my hands, standing on my tip toes to reach him. He did not struggle away from me as I pressed my lips to his in a chaste kiss.

"I'm not afraid." I explained. "I only want to make you happy. How can you be content when you still shield your face away from me? When you cause yourself discomfort? When you separate yourself from me? I only want to love you. You did not intend to marry me just for the sake of leaving me alone?" I challenged.

"But Christine..." he started and I saw him lick his lips, curiously tasting them." You have given up so much, I could not ask you to surrender any more. Not to a monster like me. What you have given me is enough joy to last me a lifetime"

"There is so much more than that. What is suitable enough to you, is not to me. I'm not being forced. I coming to you willingly. Erik...you are my husband." I pleaded.

He leaned his head forward and licked his lips once more. After that small act of hesitation, he returned my kiss with his own. I felt my lips melt against his as his breath warmed my face.

"Then put out the lamp." he instructed. He stepped away and I extinguished the light in the room. I could see a small flicker of illumination from the door reflect on the mirror in my room, just enough to indicate Erik's silhouette before me. I watched him walk over to the side of the bed before sitting down. I joined him, groping for his hand in the darkness.

My fingers encountered first his vest and cravat before working their way up towards the back of his head. His fingers met mine there as we in a tangled unison, pulled loose the strings that held his mask. I heard him exhale as if he were in pain as the cool leather fell away into my awaiting palms. I pushed it against and returned my hands to his face, exploring it's' ravage textured once more.

Even in the dark I could recall what it looked like. His skin felt cold between my fingers and I massaged his thin sallow cheeks in an attempt to warm them. I let my pinky finger stray downwards to his jaw line and stroked around its edges. All the while, Erik tried to steady himself but his breathing was still at a raged pace and his body trembled. My fingers found contact with rough patches of skin, some were even worn and wet with sweat and blood. I knew they were the places that had been rubbed raw by the tightness of his mask.

"Erik..." I breathed as I pressed my lips to his skin, kissing his wounds. I felt his body pull back but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to keep him close. I was crying now and my tears feel against him. I moved from one patch of skin to the next in a frantic pace, pressing my nose deeper against his cheek and letting my arms hold him tighter. I could not ignore the sickly aroma from his skin; the scent of dampness and flesh. But I no longer cared. It was a human scent. He was human like me and soon the crisp salty smell of my tears overpower it. Instinctively I reached up to wipe the tears away from his face and my lips, before pressing my hand against his cheek once more

My poor unhappy Erik.

In one sudden movement, Erik brought his arms around me and wrapped them tighter than my own grip. I let my head fall to the side and buried my forehead into his awaiting shoulder. I cried and then I heard Erik cry as well. We wept together.

"Oh Christine..." he sobbed. "My own father never saw me...and my mother made me wear a mask so that she wouldn't have to look at my face." One of his hands reached into my hair and pressed it against my ear. I noticed that he was rocking me in his arms. "I have lived with so much pain and I have accepted it because I thought that never...in my life...would anyone want to kiss this wretched face!"

I opened my mouth to speak but just as quickly as he had put his arms around me, he moved me against this time pressing his mouth against mine. The urging pressure from his lips caused me to part mine. He accept my gesture willing, pulling at my bottom lip with his teeth and letting his tongue trace the inside of my mouth. There was no thought of Erik's face in that moment. Not regret that I would open my eyes and see his wretched features gazing at me hopelessly.

There was only us, and we were both faceless.

He moved from my mouth to my neck, lavishing it with kisses. With one hand he stroked the side of my throat in a rapid pace.

"Sing for me..." he pleaded between the rushed movements of his lips.

His requested stunned me for a moment. However it soon came clear to me what Erik was desiring. I started to vocalize a wordless tune and then I felt Erik's lips against my throat, burning my skin with his urgency. My hands fluttered in surprise and even in the dark Erik sensed their actions and held them fast in his own.

My own breath failing me and I stopped. I pushed my hands towards him in the darkness until they rested against his chest. His lips still pressed against my neck and breastbone, I let my fingers find the buttons to his shirt and waistcoat before partially slipping them down his shoulders. His body tensed at my action, and his back stiffen as my fingers fell upon it.

"Christine...Christine Daae." he whispered laboriously "Do you have any idea...what you are doing?"

"Nothing wrong. Nothing that is sinful...not anymore." I responded and then brought my lips to his once more. We reminded locked in this embrace for another long moment, until I felt Erik's fingers touch my shoulder and then slip beneath the collar of my nightgown. He paused and started to pull away.

"I trust you..." I assure him. I pressed small kisses against his jaw. "I love you."

His hands returned to my body once more. We both could sense each other's' awkwardness in the moment, but we pressed on. I was supposed to be the willing virgin, submitting to the earthly needs of my husband; a husband who was expected to be well versed in the matters of love. It did not take much deduction to determine that Erik was as clueless as I was on this subject.

With the same tenderness and hesitant he had displayed with me before, Erik pressed onward. My night clothes fell away leaving me exposed in the darkness. He allowed me in turn to finish undressing him before he return to adorn my body with gentle caresses. I leaned back against the pillows, just barley detecting the shadow of Erik above my face, but feeling his presence completely surround me.

His fingers ran over my shoulder and back with the same grace and dexterity he used to play his violin. I willed myself not to shudder at his touch. I didn't want to give him the impression that I was repulsed by his touch, for in reality I was thrilled with it. Just as I had been the same time the first time he had touched me. I reached up my hands to touch him, to distract myself. Erik's skin shrunk back as it came in contact with my fingers, but with gently coaxing, he relaxed underneath my touch.

With the same gentleness he had displayed before, Erik explored my body, pressing his fingers into my skin. I allowed myself to be consumed in the moment, all horrible memories and experiences of being touched banished from my mind. I felt completely different as Erik caressed my breasts and stomach. My hands pressed into the sheets.

"Christine..."

His voice seemed miles away.

"Christine...am I hurting you?"

I opened my eyes.

"No never!" I assured him in a soft whisper. To confirm this, I ran my fingers through his hair and across his face. "Please..."

He understood my plea. I think before we both even realized it, we had consummated our marriage. Erik didn't falter or fumble. We had wrapped ourselves tightly next to each other, as if we could press our bodies into one being. I called out softly in both pleasure and pain, and Erik covered my mouth with his lips to stifle my cries. We were lost in each other's mummers of our names until our limbs felt limp at our sides.

Erik took the corner of the sheet and wiped my torso clean of sweat before pulling the bed spread over both of us. I continued my tight embrace of his body, afraid he would slip away once more into the night. The absences of the candle's small flame had stolen away what little warmth the room had. The air was chill against my cheeks, but under the blanket our bodies radiated heat.

A long blissful silence passed between us with only the sound of our breathing disturbed it. Erik still clung to me tightly, letting his chin rest on the top of my head.

"Christine..." he whispered

"Yes Erik."

"Christine...I..." He paused then I heard the sound of a smirk before he lowered his lips to mine in a long kiss. "Never mind...I am speechless."

I sighed relishing the sensation of each of his long fingers pressed against my back. Which brought me to alarm when I felt them leave me. Erik started to rise.

"Should I...get you something..." he fumbled. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"No. Just stay with me. Stay with me till morning." I pleaded.

His lips returned to behind my ear, letting his hot breath linger over me. "As you wish."

Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good?

Oh I'm so sorry I feel like I have abandoned this fic when I only had a few more chapters to go. There is no really good excuse but I found out I was pregnant (planned btw) then had my baby so that put a halt to my writing for a while. But my kiddo has just turned one so it's time to finish what I started! I have so many other ideas for stories that I **refuse to work on until this one is finished!**

At least I left you off a happy cliffhanger of sorts, but we are not done. No not yet. Big surprises are coming. I swear to you I'm currently writing the last chapter as I finish posting this one. A few more chapter left. Thank you for all the readers who have tuned in and hung onto my humble fic. I hope I don't disappoint (again;)


	35. Act Three: Chapter Eleven

True to his word, Erik never spent another night away from me. He also went about securing proper cookware and food so that we had a sufficient pantry. I was curious on how he was procuring these items and worried he had gone back to his old habits of stealing from the opera. However, Erik surprised me when he returned with fresh food and a new pan with a hand written price tag still on its handle.

"Tell me anything you need and you shall have it." he offered.

"Where did you get these from?" I asked trying to lower the tone of my suspicions.

"From the stores and market place." he replied in a matter of fact tone. He proceeded to explain for he could easily sense my disbelief. He visited the merchants in the early hours just as they were opening their stores. Even though it was nearing towards summer, the cool air of the Seine in the morning gave enough excuse for a man to walk about with a hat and long muffler pulled up to his face.

"But what about your mask?"

Erik tapped the side of his nose. "Ah that Christine, must remain my little secret."

Our particularly little existence continued as normal. Erik would go out in the mornings and return with fresh food every day. I busied myself preparing our meals and improving my cooking skills. Erik dutifully ate everything I put in front of him. I did not even have to nag him to leave his composing in order to eat. We would dress for bed and Erik slept with me through the night.

So it was after a while that I noticed Erik had another routine that he undertook. Every day, he would depart our home with a bucket of water and a bundle. When I questioned him, he replied that he was working on the maintenance of his domain outside his house. "As you can probably guess Christine, no one come down here keep up appearances in the cellars." I accepted this, even though I grew concerned that he would not allow me to come with him. He was quickly ready with some excuse when I offered my help.

"I must get out of this house sometime." I complained one afternoon as he returned from his routine absents. "I know I can't return to the opera without being noticed but I can't remain locked inside all day."

I saw him twitch as this statement and I was aware that it reminiscent of my early complaints. "Are you not happy here?" he prodded.

"I'm most content here with you Erik. But I cannot be a peace for much longer contained within these walls" I reasoned. "I need to see the sun. To walk outside. I must admit, I'm rather jealous of your daily trips to the world above. I wish I could come with you."

He smiled. "I understand and I shall grant you this favor. Even better than the one you requested. You may go outside on your own."

I blinked in shock. I had never expected that respond. "Erik, are you toying with me?"

He seated himself on the settee beside me. "No I'm quite serious. It is very wrong of me to keep you here. You've given me your heart and your trust. I will give you permission to come and go as you please." He pulled my hands into his. I was dumbfounded at his ease, not really believing his words to be true. Then I saw him lower his eyes, and pull the corner of his bottom lip with his teeth. This was one of the few signs I could read displaying his frustration. "But there are conditions. Please be inconspicuous. You must take to make sure no one recognizes you. It may be best that not loiter too near to the opera were the company frequents."

"I will take care." I promised.

"There is more. Please do not venture north of the Rue Scribe. Keep your journeys to the south by the river and the Louvre. You have to return here before sunset. I don't want you wandering too far. If you're in trouble..." his voice broke. "I have no way of knowing. No way of reaching you."

I was touched by his words but a small voice in the back of my head whispered the harsh reality. He had ways of finding me before. He may let me leave his home, but I was never truly out of his sight. In that moment I didn't care. I felt such relief and excitement at the prospect of getting out of this house. I had been in this place for so long that I had every corner, furnishing and wall committed to memory. I needed to see the sun. These thought set my mouth to grinning.

Erik observed and tried to match my enthusiasm with his own. It was a weak attempt as the corner of his mouth rose only slightly. "This please you?"

"Yes." I gave his hand a squeeze. "But you must come with me sometimes." I added.

"I don't think we can tempt fate too much, my love. It's a miracle I haven't aroused the noticed of the police with my strange appearances in public already. And besides, I'm not worthy to be seen with you." He reached up and pressed his hand into my cheek in a pitiful gesture. "What would people say?"

"Erik...you are all I have let in this world." I pleaded. "What care do I have for others?"

"Someday Christine, I will walk in the sun with you...but not today." The defeated tone in his voice was enough to inspire me to lean over and give him a kiss on his lips. I could feel his lips turn upward into a smile, but he did not return my kiss in kind.

I look forward to my new privilege every day. However, I did make an effort to contain my enthusiasm as not to offend Erik. I was not excited to go outside only because I could be away from him. This past year, I had been clinging to the shadows. I had busied myself with my work, working all day and well into the night at the opera. I had been confined to the cellars. It had been a long time since I had stepped into the sunlight. Erik fixed the lock he had destroyed for the secret door on the Rue Scribe

Following Erik's instructions, I purchased a wide brim sun bonnet for myself and light gauzy scarf to protect my face from the breeze. But I relished in walking down towards the river, removing my hat and scarf, and tilting my face upwards towards the radiant sun. The warm rays bathed my face and warmed my skin, even down to my scalp. I kept these episodes brief not wanting to draw attention to myself, but for the most part I did not attract too many stares. Indeed, the old ways of decorum seemed to by dying off as I noticed I was not the only unchaperoned young female out in public. Plenty young ladies strolled among the boulevards, admiring the sites of the city.

Even though I had been regulated to a few city blocks, it felt like a vast wildness compared to the close quarters of the Erik's home. When I returned, Erik was waiting for my eagerly. He made a pretense of busy himself reading or writing, but the way he instantly lost interest was an obvious clue he had being paying much attention to them in the first place. They were no more than a vain attempt as a distraction as he awaited my return. I think we were both aware of this fact but we decided not to mention it.

Erik questioned me about my outings and I happily recalled my experiences to him. No detail was too small or trivial and he genuinely enjoyed hearing about the sunlight rippling against the water of the river in a rare moment of stillness or the outrage design of a lady's hat I had spotted in the crowd. He suggested I might taking to sketching or keeping a journal what I encountered. It was not a familiar pastime for me but with Erik's encouragement, I purchased a small journal and carried it on my person.

The summer had brought many visitors to Paris as well as the regular citizens taking full advantage of the lovely weather. The streets and shops were busy and it was rare that I could find a bench or someplace quite to sit. My journeys usually carried me to the river and I started to develop a routine of sitting by the water, making note of how many boats passed or observing on a unique outfit of my fellow Parisians. I even made a noble attempt at sketching my surrounding.

However, I often found myself slipping into boredom and considered leaving and returning home to Erik. My new home was at least full of music and someone to talk to. Even though I was daily surrounded by people on my walks, I dared not strike up a conversation with any stranger. Following Erik's request, I stayed away from the cafes and shops in the neighbor close to the opera. I hadn't seen anyone from the company pass by me and I always kept a watchful eye. It was one afternoon, when my familiar melancholy mood struck me and I considered leaving my bench and returning home, when a high pitch laughter assaulted my ears. I turned my head and saw it came from a couple strolling by the bank of the river, their backs facing me. The shock of white blond hair displayed by both the man and woman made my back straighten to attention.

"Raoul..." his name escaped my lips like a constrained prayer.

I stared at them, the woman still laughing and clinging tightly to her escort. It was too intimate of an embrace for a brother and sister to share. The man turned his head to look over his shoulder and his strange profile caused me to frown. It wasn't Raoul and on closer inspection I noticed his companion was far too short to be Genny. Disappointing, I turned back to my open journal, the page for my daily entry blank. Before I knew what was happening, I saw a tear fall from my cheek and stain the paper. I quickly wiped it away and lowered my head as not to draw attention from anyone.

I was ashamed to admit that my concern for my friends had started to fade. It seemed in my odd existence they had almost vanished from my memory. I had trusted that they had been lead out safety from the cellars. I put my assurance that the Daroga had enough power of Erik to make sure they had not been harmed and Erik had given me his word. Had they left Paris? Had they fled? My anxiety began to rise and I knew I had to do something quick to distract me before drawing attention to myself. I picked up my pencil and began to write.

_"My dearest Raoul..."_

I wrote every day. Letters to both Raoul and Genny. I assure them in every letter that I was safe and satisfied in my new married life. I would describe my daily activities and what I had seen just as I would recount to Erik later that evening upon my return. At the end of letter I would once again beg their forgiveness for what I had put them through. I prayed for their welfare and hoped that we had not all gone through this terrible ordeal for nothing. My journal entries soon transformed into daily confessions and the pages were soon filling up.

What started as a form of relief soon transformed into a practice of guilt. I hid my journal from Erik. I was inventing fanciful tales to recount to him at the end of the day to cover up the fact that I had devoted my entire afternoon to writing to my friends. I was afraid he would find my journal and be terribly cross with me. Truth be told, I was starting to become resentful. I was annoyed at feeling ashamed at myself for my letters. I didn't want to hide them anymore but I dared not ask permission to mail them and make contact with my friends. However the concern for Raoul and Genny was like a growing ache inside of me. As soon as I knew they had gotten away, as soon as I knew they were safe, I could find some sense of peace in my new life. And I would trust Erik completely.

I acquired a post office box in a station a few block north of the opera house. Keeping my head down, I purchased a few dozen envelopes and composed a short letter. While I kept trying to express my confidence in my actions; my hand was shaking as I wrote. My letter was brief. I stated to Raoul that I was well and asked him to please contact me.

_"I will not leave my husband or break my marriage vows, but I am desperate to know if you are well, my dear friend."_ Writing these words felt surreal. _"Please do not seek me out, but only write to let me know the state of your welfare."_

I waited for two days with no response, before I began to send the letters from my journal. I added the same post script at the end of each of them. Some days, I stuffed two letters, one to Genny and the other to Raoul inside the same envelope. I visited the post office every day like clockwork, but after two weeks, I still hadn't received a reply.

It was becoming hard to content myself with my daily strolls or my time at home with Erik. Did I have the address of the de Changy town home correct? Surely, the de Changy were known well enough for the post to deliver any mail marked for them. Perhaps they had abandoned Paris all together. I recalled my warning to him on the night of the masque. That he should take Genny and leave the city.

I was foolish to think only the Seine separated us now. Why would Raoul have any reason to stay here, when I had pushed him away? So many times I had begged him to leave alone. I had gotten my wish. We could have been separated by an ocean by now. With this realization growing heavy upon me, and nervousness of the oncoming sunset I returned to the door on the Rue Scribe. Once I made my descent into the cellars and through the passage that followed the bank of the lake to our home. If Raoul and his family had left, it may be weeks before any my letters were forwarded to him. And even if they reached him, would he think me worthy of a reply?

A stark flash of white on the stove pavement in front of the door distracted my pitiful thoughts and brought me back to reality with a halt.

It was a letter. A letter to Raoul, lying folded among the black stones forming the threshold...of Erik's front door.

A curse escaped my lips as I swooped down to pick up the letter. It had grown wet from the dampness in the cellar, but there was no concealing the words with in as I unfolded it. _Dearest Raoul_. All my foolish passions and ramblings on display for anyone to see. It must have fallen from my person and I had sat right outside Erik's door. He must have seen it. He was still in house when I had left that day. He must have seen it and was now leaving it here to mock my stupidity. Dreading what punishment waited for me beyond the door, I went to open it.

It was locked.

I stepped back in surprise. The door was never locked. Erik was always at home when I had returned before and I had no key to the main door. I knocked and waited. There was no answer. A sudden panic seized me. An unspoken threat invaded my mind and caused me to panic. Where was Erik?

Returning to the floor, I grabbed a fistful of stones and placed them in the center of the paper. I crumbled it into a ball and threw it as hard as I could across the lake. It landed a few yards away, bobbing slightly at the surface before it faded into the water like a lamp being extinguished in the darkness. My thoughts were silenced for a few blissful moments and I concentrated on the ripples in the water before they faded away.

The sudden sound of footsteps echoing across the stillness of the lake alerted me. A panicked cry escaped me. "Who's there?"

A shadow turned the corner before its owner did. Erik appeared carrying with his usual bundle and bucket. I noticed however that bucket was empty and the bundle lacked its usual bulge. When I had questions him about this before, I had deduced that he must have carried tools with him. But here he was; empty handed.

"Where have you been?" the question erupted from my lips before I could stop it.

His shoulders tensed at my accusation. "I could ask the same of you. It's nearly sunset." he retorted. His harsh tone caught me off guard and I shrank back against the door.

"I'm sorry." I apologized weekly. "I guess I was just scared. The door was locked. You weren't home...you are always home..." I trailed off. Behind my back, my hands were shaking. Erik had left his home. He had clearly seen the letter and he had left the evidence of my distrust out for me to see. I was going to be reprimanded and now I had made it worst with my stupid accusatory questions.

"I'm sorry that my absence disturbed you so much." He reached into his waistcoat pocket for his key and opened the door. My feet quickly carried my across the parlor and to the stairs to my room.

"Christine!" His voice froze me in my tracks. I turned to face him, his eyes intently fixed on me. "You seem quite upset. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong really." I lips barely moved as I spoke.

A shadow formed and flickered across his left eye, no doubt the result of an eyebrow being raised in disbelief. "Really?" He echoed my response.

I took a long intake of breath, still unsure if he was only playing at being oblivious. "Well, I just had a feeling. This afternoon, I was overcome with a sense of loneliness. I wanted to get home right away and I suppose… I was just afraid when I found the door locked. I panicked and it was very silly of me, I recognize that." I spoke quickly hoping this feeble excuse would be enough to calm his suspicion for the time being.

My explanation seemed to have pleased him. He put a caring hand on my shoulder. "Well than I shall have to make you a key to the house so you may open the door if I'm out." The hand on my shoulder reached up stroke an errant curl that escaped my up do. Something about his calm manner and smile made me highly anxious. As if he knew what I had been up to every afternoon. That my feelings of loneliness were derived from missing my friends, not from being away from him.

"And you will let me know if there is anything else I can do to ease your mind." he added.

I stood there stunned. Was it possible that he didn't see the letter? No, Erik was too observant to miss something like that. It wouldn't surprise me if he had already discovered my hidden letters before and read them all. He was calmly hiding this knowledge from me, I was sure of it.

The next day, Erik gathered his things to make his daily departure. Without my notice, he had refilled his bundle and was making his way toward the door when he hesitated. He turned in my direction as if he just remembered I was still there. When he discovered I had been watching him intently, I saw his eyes narrow into slits.

"Are you no going out today Christine?" he asked.

"No I thought not." I replied. "It looked like it might rain yesterday so I thought I would just stay home."

The corner of his lip lifted. "It's raining? Are you sure?"

The truth was I wouldn't be able to tell if there was a thunderstorm or hurricane outside. The walls of the cellar were so insulated that the sounds of the outside world rarely reached us. "It just been cloudy all week actually. Not the best weather for being outside really." I offered praying that he hadn't already being outside and discovered I was lying.

He cleared his throat. "If you say so. I have left a key to the door on top of the piano...should you change your mind." Then he left without another word, and I could hear the familiar click as he locked the door behind him.

I glanced at the piano, which still held the strange iron casket that contained the keys to the torture chamber. The memory of that night and the curt tone in which Erik has spoken to me caused me to shudder. He spoke as if he were annoyed that I decided not to go out. That I was breaking my routine deliberately. He was right, of course.

I had dared to write another letter. I had concealed it on my person, folded and tucked into my corset. With my back towards the door, I removed it, opened it out and smoothed down the raised edges.

_"Raoul, I am desperate for some response to my letters. I know you must hate me. I would not blame you if you never forgave me for what I did to you and your family. Hate me if you will, but please my dearest friend, write to me at this address to let me know you are safe. Yours Christine."_

I had almost written _"to let me know you are alive"_ but reason shockingly triumphed over my paranoia this time. Raoul was not dead. Even Erik, who had seemed to be the prince of lies, could not have deceived me about that. All I wanted was a word. Even if it was a brief note telling me to go to hell, I just needed to know he was safe.

Just in case Erik was still lingering outside the door, I sat at the piano, let my fingers pick over the keys and practiced my scales. After a several minutes of this farce, I took the key, rushed to my room grabbed my cloak and with the letter in hand; raced to the door and up out of the cellars. This letter seemed more precious to me than the others and I ran like I was holding a burning coal in my hand. Once I emerged outdoors I was surprised to see the morning was actually sunny and pleasant. The temperature was actually warmer than I would have expected making me regret bringing my cloak which had already cause me to sweat during my climb.

I turned my attention to my directed target. I was intent to get to the post office as quick as possible and run back to the opera before Erik returned from his daily disappearance. However as I rounded the corner, my shoulder clipped the side of a gentleman walking briskly the other way. I managed to back pedal, balancing on the heels of my shoes just enough so I feel back against the wall instead of dropping to the pavement like a stone. I shook the daze out of my head and lifted my eyes, half expecting to see Erik standing there, triumphantly catching me in my deception.

Instead I found myself almost nose to nose with the familiar face of Madame' Vaerlius lawyer, M. Girard. He fumbled to collect his balance and adjust his hat. "Oh I beg your pardon, mademoiselle." he sputtered.

"Monsieur Girard!" I exclaimed. He looked at me puzzled for a moment before his eyes grew wide with recognition.

"Mademoiselle Daae, isn't it? Fancy meeting you here." he started then frowned "Well not really considering that this is the opera and you do...do you still work here?" he asked.

"I'm taken a hiatus from singing but I still have...some business here." I explained.

"Well forgive my rudeness for almost crashing into you..."

"Monsieur." I cut him off. "It was my fault and I was in a hurry." My fingers holding the letter to my chest tighten slightly. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?" he nodded. "I have been trying to contact Raoul de Changy and his family for several weeks now. But I haven't gotten a response to any on my letter." I had up the letter for him to see. "I was on my way to post this now." I was so overtaken by my speech that I had failed to notice M. Girard's eyes growing even wider as I spoke.

I paused my frantic narrative. "Could you by chance leave this at their town house if you are in the area?" His mouth opened in confusion. Perhaps I was being a little too bold. "Or perhaps they have left Paris. Could you tell me?"

He reached forward and grabbed my extended wrists none to gentle, but I could tell it was not out of malice but shock. "Mademoiselle Daae, forgive me but haven't you heard what's happened ?" he half shouted. Clearly my silence indicated my answer.

"I thought you knew. Philippe de Changy is dead! He was found drowned in the sewers beneath the opera. No one has seen any of the family since it happened. Raoul and Mademoiselle Genevieve have been missing for weeks!"


	36. Act Three: Chapter Twelve

I told myself not to do it. My index finger had found a stray thread on the hem of my night gown. I had nervously twisted it around the tip of my finger several times; my mind ordered me to stop. To calm down. Yet I pulled and twisted even further, waiting in dreaded anticipation as I heard Erik's footsteps outside the door.

The thread unraveled even more as I pulled it along, in sync with the motion of the door opening and Erik appearing before me. He held a candelabra with several candles casting their glow under his face. He had already removed his coat and stood in his shirtsleeves. His tall frame filled the doorway and with the light playing off his face, even with his mask, he appeared rather handsome. Our eyes meet, and he smiled at me.

That smile. That beautiful and terrible smile. How many times had I been deceived by him again and again with that cunning smile? With his pleasantness and affections, he had sought to conceal each and every terrible lie. He had promised so many times from those same lips that he would be truthfully to me and I had blindly believe him. I was such a fool. Had it not been for his passionate declarations of love for me, I would not believe that he had any reason to _keep me safe_. Safe from him and his lies. But it was exactly that love, that madness...that drove him to do these things. To mislead me once again.

I pulled on the thread and it snapped. The blood rushed back into my finger which had stared to turn purple with my compulsive distraction.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked. Even across the room he could sense my discomfort. On reflex, I stretched out my hands over the bed spread and made a great fuss about smoothing the fabric.

"Of course." I spat out. I had tried to keep my voice quiet.

"You seamed very sluggish this evening at dinner." He shifted in place and I scrambled for something else to talk about.

"Do you know if they have started the opera season yet?" I prodded.

He moved over to one of the room's many end tables and set down the candelabra. He reached up to his throat and loosened his cravat before reaching down to undo a few buttons of his shirt.

"Why such a renewed interest in the stage?"

"It would be nice to go see a performance." I offered.

"Ah but Christine, I could perform any opera you would like to hear...whenever you wanted to." he exclaimed, moving his arms for emphasize. I tried not to stare at his bare chest peeking from underneath his shirt and kept my face passive. "Provided you deem me a worthy performer."

"Of course I do! I understand it's just..." I chuckled. "I've actually never seen an opera performed before. As an audience member. I've always watched from the wings."

He sighed, "I think I heard talk of Rigeletto as the season opener. Would you like to attend?"

"It would be nice." I nodded in reply.

Erik sat on the edge of the bed and grasped my hand. He pulled my fingers to his lips and slowly kissed the tips one by one. My pulse quickened and my face grew flush. Once he was finished with my fingers, he moved to lavish his affections on my palm moving up to my wrist, kissing the top while caressing the underside with his hands. His touch caused goose pimples to erupt on my skin. A reaction that was not entirely caused by my nervousness. I silently cursed him for making me feel this way and myself for enjoying it.

I made a weak effort to pull my hand away which brought us face to face. He release my hand only to pull me close to him and press a kiss against my cheek. I brought my hand up to his lips as he pulled away and again kissed my fingers.

"Why so affectionate tonight?" I asked.

"Don't I have the right to be?" he murmured. Then brushing hair away from my ear, he pressed his lips against the skin right underneath. "I love you Christine Daae." His breath flew into my ear, carrying his words like the tide. It surrounded me making my flush skin grow even hotter.

"Erik..." I whispered his name lacking the words to speak of anything else. Part of me wanted to scream and push him away, shouting every curse I could think of. The rest of me wanted to pull him closer, to let him touch and kiss every aching part of me. I had given myself to him. I had pledged myself to him in marriage and he had sworn that Raoul would be safe, that his life would be spared. Even Erik, who had exclaimed to the Persian in the torture chamber that promises were for idiots, surely he would not break this vow to me.

But I flashed back to the look on M. Girard's face when he told me the fate of the Comte de Changy. The jovial man that had welcomed me, a nobody, to dine with his aristocratic family. Who had been so friendly. I recalled his face and then that vision was replace by one of Erik, unmasked, dripping wet and cold eyes.

My body gave a quick shiver. Erik rested a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Christine, do you not want me here with..."

"No." I cut him off. "I'm sorry Erik, I..." I took a deep breath. I didn't want to send him away. That would only make him suspicious. "It's me, my... monthly courses." I explained. I felt wretched and prideful at the same time for making up such a clever excuse. Thankfully there was no award look of disgust. He simply nodded and placed his hand on top of my head stroking his fingers downward into my hair.

"Should I stay with you then?" he asked timidly

"Of course." With my response, he wrapped his arm around my waist and lowered us both down into the bed. He maintain his caressing motion down the length of my hair and softly hummed. I was warm, comfortable and in the arms of my husband who was giving his best effort to help me go to sleep.

But I knew that I could not rest properly until I discovered the truth about Raoul's whereabouts.

Even after a fitful night's sleep, I gave my best effort to appear pleasant and cheerful to Erik the next morning. I packed a bag of food items and bubbly discussed my plans for a full day of shopping. When I asked if Erik wanted to join me, he replied in the negative saying he had to attend to some "chores" around the opera. It was the answer I was hoping for. After presenting me with a generous amount of money for my spending pleasure, I made my way towards the door. Erik let me go without so much as a good bye kiss.

I lit one of the lanterns that has been placed outside the secret doorway to his home and proceeded to the passage of stairs that lead upwards toward the Rue Scribe. I only ascended to the second step, before dropping my belonging on the floor, turning around and having a seat. My vantage point was just such that I could see the entrance to the house if I peeked my head around the corner of the wall that partially hide the stairs from view.

Between bouts of half wakefulness at night, I had tried to think of how I would discover the whereabouts of my friends. In my brief conversation with M. Girard yesterday, he was as clueless as I was about the matter. The police has no leads on why Philippe de Changy was in the cellars of the opera that night or what would have lead him to the lake. His death had been classified as an accident. No other family members had been able to contact Raoul or his sister and the funeral was held without them. I knew of only two people who had seen Raoul and Genny after they left the house on the lake; Erik and the Persian. I had no clue on how I could contact the Persian, and I was certain if we happen to meet each other in public by chance, he would no doubt persuaded me to leave Erik and summon the authorities.

That option unavailable to me caused me to turn my attention to Erik's daily absences from our home and his refusal to let me accompany him on any of these trips. When he had first abducted me, he remained in the house with me at all times. When I had returned and agreed to stay with him, he stayed with me at almost every moment. Now he had suddenly taken to leaving the house every day with his bundle and bucket, almost like clockwork and returning with them empty. It could very well have been his provision for his work, but I knew Erik better. He could days without eating so he would not become famished after such a short time away. There was the possibility that he really was attending to maintenance matters around the cellars but with Erik I had learned nothing is what it seems. So I waited on the steps, hoping to follow him to where ever he always went.

I reached into my bag and retrieved a box of matches, a candle and a small metal box that had once held some sort of food. Inside I had packed several bits of used firewood; branches that had been burned black in our stove. I picked up one and used it to draw a mark on the stone wall before me. I traced over the mark with my fingers, feeling its chalky texture and seeing it stain my fingertips as I pulled away. I was not foolish enough to think I could follow Erik through the maze underneath the opera house without losing my way so I had decided to mark my path in the most inconspicuous manner I could think of. White chalk or breadcrumbs would be a dead giveaway, but it was easy enough to see the black mark on the wall if one looked close enough. I blew out the flame on my lantern and waited.

The consuming silence made the minutes stretch into hours, or so it seemed. My only companionship to my troubled mind was the obnoxious drip of water into the lake. Finally, I heard the door to the house open and I peered around the corner, just letting my eyes be seen from the other side of the wall. Erik stepped out, his bundle under one arm and bucket hanging from the other. He took a deliberate stride in the opposite direction. I let out a long breath, lit my candle and eased myself away from my hiding place. I had one of my charcoal stick held out to my right side, ready to mark my path. I waited until I could just see the light of his lantern start to fade before I trailed behind him.

I moved as quickly as I could, very aware of each step to let my shoe fall softly. Erik made his way through several turns down corridors filled with cobwebs and reeking of damp and decay. I remained out of sight, not daring to enter the same passage way as him before I saw him leave to take another turn. I left small marks along the wall which transformed into arrows when I reached the end of a corridor and followed him into the next one.

His trail lead us to a spiral staircase entombed by a wall of stone. It resembled that belong in a medieval dungeon. With a fright I recalled Erik's words to me about the use of the opera's cellar as dungeons for prisoners. My body gave a shiver that was not caused by the cold. I waited at the top of the steps, almost too afraid to move, until I saw Erik's lantern light disappeared which spurred me to quickly descend the steps. We repeated the same pattern in another set of corridors before again reaching another set of stairs. I was frighten to discover that there were still more levels in the cellar, even beneath Erik's home in the fifth level. When I had first discovered where Erik had brought me, I could not think of a more horrible place to have to spend one life in. Now, I discovered I was wrong. There where places in the opera more dark and secret than Erik's hidden lair.

At the end of these stairs stretched out a long passage of small rooms, each one with either a door or a set of iron bars. I saw to my horror that Erik was standing just a few yards before me when I had reached the last step. I stopped breathing for a moment while I back pedaled up the stairs, trying not to pant, gasp or scream.

It was a room full of cells...cages. As I had done before I peered around the corner so I could just make out the movements of Erik as he withdrew a set of keys from his cloak and opened the door before him. He disappeared inside and the door slammed shut with a noise loud enough to make me jump. I moved back down the stairs, pinched out the flame on my candle and used the light from inside the cell to guide me towards the door. I crouched low against it, bracing myself.

My feet twitched as if desperately trying to send me a signal to run away. I could feel the muscles in my back tense from the effort of trying to hold myself completely still. I did not want to look inside that cell, but I had to. My head rose centimeters at a time as I once again slowed my breathing to almost nothing and peered inside the tiny opening at the top of the door.

A scream rose up from the pit of my stomach, traveling to the surface with the speed of a steam train. A quick reaction of my hand over my mouth was the only thing that stopped me from letting it escape my body and echo out. Erik stood with his back towards the door and beyond the fold of his cape that billowed about the room I saw two bodies. Two bodies with legs shackled, and seated against the wall of the disgusting cell. They moved slightly but appeared drained as if any motion caused them great difficulty. I ducked back towards the floor in horror, my hands shaking so much that I dropped my candle, matches and my metal box. Thankfully I was so close to the floor that they did not make much of a sound. The noises from inside the cell were far more distracting.

"Where's Christine?"

The voice that issued from the door was horse and weak, but still with an undertone of menace. I bit my lips to keep a startling gasp from giving away my position.

_It was Raoul's voice. _

The tears leaking from my eyes were the substitutes of the cries of rage I desperately wanted to release. I didn't dare take another look through the window, fearful that Raoul would see me and cry out. Gentle whimpering reached my ears, a distinct sound from a female voice._ Genny_. My teeth came down upon my lip in rage and terror.

"Please... I just want to see her...one last time..." It was Raoul once again, his voice weaker than before. There was a rattle of metal, no doubt chains scraping against the floor before a crash of something toppling over. The whimpers became wails.

"Let us out!" The commotion continued for a few seconds before another voice silenced all the prisoners' protests.

"You'll never see Christine again." Erik hissed.

The door pressed forward slightly and I barely made it away from being knocked over by the furious force Erik used to open it the rest of the way. I scampered down the corridor and without access to a quick hiding place, I simply shrank into a ball against the floor. I prayed in vain that Erik would not see my form in the darkness but waited there like the condemned before the blow of the executioner's axe, waiting for him to see me.

To my amazement, Erik stormed out of the cell and up the stairs without glancing back. I stayed in my position for several long moments, paralyzed with fear and at the thought of my sheer luck. Only when I could no longer hear the sound of the retreating footsteps did I dare rise up. I re-lit my candle and still keeping my body close to the floor made my way back to the cell that contained my friends. I dared one more glance inside.

Raoul was clutching his sister in his arms, their backs turned to me. Genny was shaking with sobs and Raoul leaned his chin down into her shoulder. Holding her as tight as possible as his only method of comforting her. Their almost white blond hair appeared grey from dirt and neglect. Genny still wore her Marguerite costume from months earlier. It was so frayed and tattered that the bottom hem barley brushed her ankles and the shoulder seams had split long ago. I noticed off in the corner a crude platter which had a loaf of bread and a tin of assorted food placed on it. There was a pitcher made of the same basic metal that had fallen on its side, spilling its precious water onto the floor.

I was useless. Without the keys I could not reach them. I was responsible for their imprisonment and the shame I felt about it welled up in my mouth, leaving me speechless. I turned away, wiping the tears away from my face. I had accomplished my goal. I knew that Genny and Raoul were alive, if one could call _this_ living. Fury caused my face to grow red with heat. I had given my very soul to Erik. I had pledged my body and soul to him in marriage in return for the simple request they he did not harm my friends. That we would live separate lives from them. I had agree to cut Raoul out of my life even though it nearly destroyed me to do so. Raoul had sacrificed so much and this is how I repaid him.

No. Erik did this. He claimed to love me but he couldn't even grant me this simple favor. I cursed myself for my blind ignorance to their plight. While I had been showered with gifts and affections, my friends had been starving in a dungeon cell that wouldn't be fit to cage an animal in. Erik, who knew the horrors of being caged, thought it a fit punishment for my friends who had done nothing to harm him. Their only crime is that they had made the mistake of caring for me.

I had crouched against the door for so long, boiling in my anger that I failed to notice the candle withering away in my hand. A splash of hat wax scattered across my hand. Even my muffled cry of pain barely registered over the sound of Genny's sobs. I pressed my hands hard against the door and swore under my breath. I swore I would free them just has Raoul had tried so hard to free me.

My breaking heart commanded me to stay but I knew it would take carefully planning to release them from the cell. Right now, cunning and rationale were the further things from my mind which raged with fury and betrayal. I left my candle stub and struck a match, using its light to guide me up the stairs. I moved fast, brushing my fingers against the wall as the light faded and ran out. They encountered a texture that differ from the coarse girt of brick. I lit another match and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw my charcoal mark just visible against the wall. Letting the match's small light guide me until I found another of my marks and continued in this fashion until I climbed up to the fifth cellar.

I sprinted pass the entrance to the house, terrified that Erik would emerge from the entrance at any moment. Or worst, he could have already deduced that I had followed him and was now behind me, reversing our roles. Nothing happened as I returned to my original post as the steps to the Rue Scribe. My knees fell to the floor, weak with exhaustion as I could feel myself on the verge of hyper ventilating. Within moments I could be up those steps and making my way to the nearest police station. I could summon officers down into the cellar to help recuse Raoul and Genny. However there was no guarantee that they could enter the cellars of the opera without being detected. I was not certain if Erik had returned home or if he was prowling in the corridors, just waiting for any intruders. Erik had managed to find me in the cemetery, on the roof of the opera. I had of yet been able to elude his detection. It was very possible that he had been tracking me every time I left the opera and had already seen my frequent trips to the post office.

I would be a fool to believe once again that Erik was ignorant to my whereabouts. While rushing to the police seemed like the reasonable thing to do right now, I could not in good conscious lead innocent men down into the cellars where a labyrinth of traps and snares awaited them.

I had gathered enough strength to pull myself up and make the climb to the street level. I needed to see a clock to know how much time had passed. If I returned to the house too soon, I would arose Erik's suspicions. I opened the door only to be blasted by a torrent of rain. It fell so rapidly from the sky that it soaked the lower half of my dress almost instantly. I peered through the thick sheets of rain. There was no one on the street so no curious onlookers to gawk at the girl standing in a doorway that had just seem to appear out of nowhere. No one to watch what I did next.

The rain provided a perfect alibi for me. I lifted my skirt over a gathering puddle and stepped out, letting the cold water beat against my face and body. A few seconds was all it took to cover me from head to foot, yet I could have stayed longer if I wanted too. I had complained about missing the sunlight. I had forgotten how much I had missed the rain.

My lips quivered from cold and anticipation, calculating my next move. It pained me, but I pushed away the image of Raoul and Genny clutching each other in that cell. I had to concentrate on my plan to free them. I returned to the house and stepped inside once more. It was an actual surprise and a relief to find that Erik had returned to his home and he greeted my reappearance with a surprised expression of his own.

"Christine!" he exclaimed, his eyes ranking up and down my body.

"I got caught in the rain." I replied.

He laughed. "Obviously!" he rushed forward, clutching my hands in his. His hands, usually so cold now felt almost blazing hot when the touch my cool wet flesh. His hands then went upwards, pressing themselves against my cheeks before he leaned in to kiss me longingly on the lips. I returned his kiss in kind.

"Well you are in luck. I just decided to make some tea." he informed me. "Come in to the kitchen" Once there, Erik slipped my sopping wet cloak from my shoulder and draped it over a chair. He rubbed one of my hands, between his trying to warm it.

My stomach twisted in disgust. He was making tea. He had just finished returning from his duties as jailer and he had decided to make tea. He was trying to warm me while he had willingly left my friends shivering in a horrible place with no light. It wasn't enough that he kept me a prisoner to his will, but he had inflicted this cruel torment on others. At least my cell was decorated with comfort in mind. A hard lump rose in my throat and threaten to spill out along with every hateful word and curse I could think to call him. I bid them to be silent. I had played a part before, so I directed myself to be calm as I assumed a "role" once more.

I gave his hand a playful squeeze while flashing a smile. "Have you heard more about the opera? When is it going to open?" I asked.

"Still determined to attend?" he inquired as he turned to pour hot water from the kettle into two awaiting cups.

"You seem determined not to attend? May I pry into what is causing your reluctance?"

He kept his attention on preparing the tea and in a moment I was worried that this line of questioning was tipping him off to my intent. "It will come as no surprise that the opera is again under new management. I would have to make the necessarily arrangements to procure my private box." He took a sip. "It would be a simple matter if I reverted to my usually methods but I gather that my wife is not fond of my old unscrupulous ways."

I looked down at my cup and nodded. "I see."

"We will have to hope that old superstitions don't die off." he suggested. "Unless you would rather attend alone."

"No." I cut him off a little too enthusiastically. "I've never seen this opera before. I think I would appreciate it more with the assistance of my Maestro by my side." I explained hoping my simpering affections did not appear too fake.

Erik _had to come with me_ to the opera.


	37. Act Three: Chapter Thirteen

Arrangement had indeed been made. Erik had secured Box Five for his use during opening night. The new managers were very aware of the consequences of displeasing the Opera Ghost. An empty box seemed a small price to pay in return for an intact chandelier and peace among the opera company.

Erik seemed to have wanted to make up for his unwillingness to take me in the first place. He insisted in preparing dinner and presenting me with a lavish gown.

"Where did this come from?" I asked with surprise.

"I saw it in a shop window many weeks ago. It was proclaimed to be the latest fashion. So I bought you one...for a special occasion." he admitted.

It was stunning and boarded on the edge of risky. It wasn't like any dress I had own or worn before. The fabric was blood red, trimmed with ruffles and lace of a deep burgundy that it almost looked black. The neckline plunged so that the top of it rested just above my breast. Once I had laced a corset, my décolletage seemed even more exposed. The bodice of the gown also had boning in it, pressing against my waist like a lock and chain.

Yards of the slick fabric twisted and pulled themselves into an elegant train the flowed behind me on the floor, but also clung tightly to my legs, letting me only take a small stride. Perhaps the latest fashion was not suited to me, but I dared not refuse Erik's gift.

As we had so many times before, Erik rowed us across the lake and we made our way into the halls of the opera house. It was surprisingly quiet for opening night and it was only later after Erik's explanation did I discover why.

"Unfortunately, due to my appearance, I've always had to arrive late to the performance." he smiled. "And with you at my side, I'm sure I would have attracted more attention that I would have anticipated." he added, leaning down to whispered right against my ear. "You are a vision, Christine."

The entrance to Box Five was left unattended. We entered without any obstacle and took our seats just as the audience was applauding a recently completed aria. I dared enough to glance out beyond the edge of the box, to take in not only the spectacle of the stage but of the auditorium as well. It was obvious why Erik had chosen this box as it was some of the best seats in the house. However Erik didn't seemed as interested in watching the performance as I was. He remained seated in the second row of chairs, his face concealed by the shadows.

"Did you not want to see the opera?" I asked with a tone of disappointment.

"To be honest Christine, until you started performing I had little desire to watch the performance." he admitted. "I am content to just listen."

I joined him in the back row, holding his hands and asking him several questions about the music. Even hidden by the shadows, I could see him smile and his eyes soften as I leaned closer to whisper another question or comment in his ear. Clearly, Rigoletto was not a comedy as I tried my best to pay attention to the multiple intrigues scattered among the plot. Erik was of course my helpful guide through it all.

The curtain closed signaling the second intermission. I stood up from my seat, stretched my arms and made several movements indicating my need to leave. Erik only looked at me puzzled and reached out to capture my hand in his.

"Is something the matter?"

"I need to leave." I stated. He frowned. A blush rose up to my cheeks. "Oh Erik, I'm sorry." I leaned over to whisper. "I need to use the ladies room." I explained with a little laugh in my voice. He didn't seem to react in any way to this.

"We can leave, if you need to." he suggested concerned.

"But I want to see the rest of the opera!" I protested. "I'll be back before the curtain comes up." He looked away from me uninterested. "What's wrong?"

He let loose a sigh. "I'm concerned about you being recognized, that's all."

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I think mostly everyone here has forgotten about me."

"Wait till the curtain comes up." His instructions were brisk and his tone gruff. "Then you can leave the box."

"Erik..." I pleaded using my free hand to touch his cheek and bring his face to look at me. "I'm afraid this can't wait. Please, you are making this rather...embarrassing." I glanced down. "Let me have your pocket watch."

"My watch?" he asked stunned.

"Yes, I'll keep track of the time. I'll wait until the curtain goes back up when everyone is in their seats. Then I'll come back here, if that would ease your worries." I explained.

He reached inside his jacket coat and produced a heavy dark silver pocket watch, which he placed in my awaiting palm. "If you insist."

I leaned my face closer, having my forehead press up against his. "Honestly, I don't think anyone would recognized me." I pressed a kiss against his mask. I saw his eyes soften and his grip on my hand final relaxed.

My lips were drawn to his like a magnetic pull. I let my fingers once again roam to the skin below the line of his mask, memorizing the bones of his jaw, the slight stubble on his chin. My eyes closed letting me take in every other sense around us to remember him. The soft feel of his hair brushing like feathers against my skin. The strange intoxicating scent of the fabric of his coat mingled with the smells of candle wax.

This was the last time I was going to kiss him. Even my hatred for him was not strong enough to pull me away in this moment. I swore there that I would never allow myself to fall in love again. Having my heart broken over and over again was sickening.

Erik was the one who pulled away, stroking under my chin as he parted.

"Don't be too long." he instructed.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I turned away from the light in the hallway and buried my face against the wall. I gasped as I tried desperately to hold back my sobs, masking my face in my hands. Thankfully the hall way was empty so no one noticed me, crying in the corner. The cool metal of the pocket watch pushing against my face was my one call to action. I opened it and glanced at the watch face.

_Fifteen minutes._

My feet moved as fast as they could carry me. Despite my restricted stride due to my dress, I was able to make it out of the hallways that lead to the grand tier boxes and down into the foyer. I charted my course to use the side hallways and corridors to avoid the crowds milling along the main staircase. I heard the sound of fabric ripping behind me and once I was completely out of the sight of the other patrons, I grabbed the train of my skirt in my left hand and ran, causing even more rips and tears. I recalled the entrance Erik has used on our way up, a hidden door located in an abandoned corridor near the dressing rooms. The slightest push on the wall seam would open it if the person knew what they were looking for. I slammed my shoulder into it and barreled on through.

I didn't check the watch again until I had made it back to the underground lake.

_Nine minutes._

While cumbersome to use, the boat was essential to my plan. I rowed as fast as I could to the other side of the lake. Once there I used the paddle to push the boat away from the shore before then taking the paddle and flinging into lake as far as I could. I withdrew my key from inside my corset and opened the door.

I had placed my boots under an arm chair. I kicked off my shoes and stepped into the boots without even bothering to button them up. There wasn't enough time to change out of the dress. Concealed under a throw pillow, I had place one of my cloak as well as one of Erik's. I stuffed both under my arm before grabbing another hidden item. A bag with matches, food and other essentials stuffed between two book cases. I made my way to the piano and flung open the terrible box that contained Erik's keys. All of his keys it seemed. I threw them into the bag. In my haste, I knocked over the box as well as several other items from the piano top.

A small plain black bag fell onto the floor. I picked it up, felling its surprising light weight in my hand, despite the fact that it seemed very full. Once the cord was released, I found myself gazing at several folded franc notes. They were crammed into the bag.

"Idiot" I murmured out loud. I had forgot about money. Thankfully fate was kind to me once by dropping this at my feet. As I removed them one by one, I tallied quickly how much I would need for train fare, food, and shelter. Not too much, I reasoned feeling a stab of guilt for stealing it.

But then I recalled how Erik acquired his funds. He blackmailed people. All my clothes, luxuries everything was paid with this. This was nothing but dirty money. I wouldn't rob him of anything if I took it.

My fingers squeezed tightly around the bag as I placed it with the rest of my things.

_Seven minutes._

Aware of how much time I was wasting, I left the house, grabbing one of the lanterns that rested by the door. My memory recalled the path Erik had taken when he left the house a few days earlier. Keeping the lantern to close to the wall, I mentally repeated the steps I had taken on this journey before, keeping a sharp eye out for the charcoal marks I had left on the wall.

The corridors were silent, void of any indication that hundreds of people where socializing on the floors above. The only wretched sound I could hear was the ticking of the pocket watch, still clutched tightly in my hand. I held my breath without being aware of it, listening as the ticking of the watch and the thumping of my heart almost lined up in time.

It was distracting enough that I skipped a step on the first stairway and nearly topple over. An inhuman shriek greeted me as I fell to the floor, using my hands to catch myself. My lantern tipped over and a stinging sensation whipped across the top of my palm, followed by another and another. A soft scratching noise then multiplied around me. With a shrill shriek I realized what it was.

Rats! I jumped up in fright as I saw swarms of tiny bodies scurry away from the overturn lantern into the ensuing darkness. A sea of long black tails gliding over the stone surface. I brought my hand to my mouth and bit into it to stop myself from letting lose the horrified scream threatening to burst. My feet kicked wildly around me in an effort to chase away any other rats from around my ankles. Some still stood gathered around the hem of my dress, weighting it down. I trashed violently but still keeping silence. My fear that Erik was following trumped my fear of the rats. Still shaking I picked up the lantern and followed the rat deeper into the cellars.

The noise of my heart thundered in my ear, blocking out the ticking of the watch. I was doubting my plan, expecting at any moment to stumble into another trap or obstacle. My back tensed as if anticipating a hard jerk from behind as Erik discovered where I had disappeared to. The thought of Raoul, pitifully asking about me when he was locked up and left to rot was the only thing pushing me forward. I manged my way through the twists and turns until I reached the second stair case and the corridor full of cells.

I approached slowly, holding the lantern out in front of me while fumbling for the keys in my bag. The glowing light must have alerted me to their presence for I heard the familiar sound of chains rustling along the floor as I drew closer. The keys rested in my hand, clinking softly together.

"What do you want?" cried Raoul, his voice tense and gruff. I froze. While my mind was overworked with emotions, it paused to entertain the thought that Raoul would be upset to see me. That even after all I had risked to do this, he would turn his back on me. I could see a scene before my eyes of him pushing me away, telling me to leave him. To go back to Erik.

The keys rested in my hand, clinking softly together. I stood on tiptoe and brought my face into view of the cell door. Raoul was standing a few feet away, gazing intently.

"Christine?" His voice cracked halfway through speaking my name. And then he cried. I joined him, letting my tears of anger and joy finally fall freely upon my face at the sight of him.

"Raoul, I'm here. I've come to get you out!" I called, a little too loudly. My voice echoed back to me through the empty corridor as I tried each key in turn before opening the lock. Raoul rushed forward and held me in a tight embrace, taking the breath from my lungs with his grip.

"I'm dreaming..." he muttered.

I could have stayed there forever. Here in these arms, in Raoul's arms was where I belonged. Here I was truly safe, without any strings attached. No compromises or forced promised to be made to assure I would be protected and loved. I gave a cry that was somewhere between a sob and laugh. It sounded so bizarre.

"Here put this on!" I instructed, handing him Erik's cloak. I knelt down to his feet and tried to find the correct key for the shackle on his leg. They had both been chained to the wall, like animals. Once release, Raoul move to scoop me in his arms again. "We don't have much time." I hissed pushing him away. We turned our attention to Genny, who despite the commotion, was still sleeping huddled in the corner.

I cursed out loud as I examined the shocking condition she had been left in. Her glorious hair was almost completely matted and her flimsy costume hung on her tiny frame like a limp coat on a hanger. Using the same key, I removed her leg shackle. She only gave a soft moan as Raoul picked her up from the floor. I gently laid my cloak over her sleeping form. Raoul managed to grab one of my hands even as he held his sister.

"How did you find us?" he whispered.

"I'll explain later." I told him, shutting the cell door and throwing the keys inside through the opening. Raoul gave me a shocked look.

"Won't we need those?" he asked

"No," and I felt a gleeful expression spreading over my face as I spoke. "We are never coming back here!" I exclaimed, reveling in my cunning for a brief moment. I checked the watch once more.

_Two minutes_

I guided them up the stairs and once more through the winding passages. My fear and cation was now replaced with pure adrenaline. My only thought was that I would soon be free from this labyrinth of darkness. That I would live my life the way I intended too. If Erik had truly love me, he would have given me that. My arm held out the lantern like a jouster's lance, ready to strike at any obstacle that came between us and the door to the Rue Scribe.

The air that night had grown chilly even though it was only the end of summer. The light from the stars seemed to illuminate our great escape. The pocket watch was practically buried into my palm from how tightly I had clutched it.

_Zero_

Intermission was over and we had only moments before Erik realized something was amiss and went searching for me. I hoped the lack of the boat would stall us for time before he came racing after me like a demon. Raoul's steps slowed once we made out way from the cellar. His feet stumbled on Erik's oversized cloak but despite his exhaustion, I pulled him along.

A line of carriage loitered around the entrance to the opera as well as several handsome cabs eagerly waiting to collect a fare once the curtain had fallen on the final act. I approached one and called lively to the driver who appeared to have dozed off while waiting.

"Monsieur, I need to get to the railway station!" He looked at me and snorted in disgust once he took in my friend's tattered appearance.

"Go on." he muttered.

"I need to get to the railway station! It's an emergency!" I pleaded. I did not have the time to go from one coach to another.

"I'm waiting for proper customers!" he spat back. "Do I look like a charity?"

I could have taken delight in informing him that he would be carrying the heirs of the de Changy estate in his humble vehicle. Instead I reached inside my bag, and withdrew a large handful of bills into his line of vision. "Now sir, do I look like a charity?" Within moments, we were trotting away from the brilliant lights of the opera house.

We rode in silence. I finally took the time to button my boots. Raoul placed Genny down to rest on one of the seats and I curled up next to her on the floor, holding her hand. I stayed there for a long while still trying to comprehend what I had done. Raoul leaned over and offered me the cloak, but I refused it. I didn't want any reminders of Erik.

I was empty. I should have felt relief and triumph. I should have also been racked with guilt and remorse at my betrayal, but in that moment, I felt nothing. Not even the wind stealing through the window or the pain in my knees from kneeling for so long.

I didn't speak a word until we reached the train station. Thankfully, even at this point at night there were trains leaving for a variety of destinations. We found one that was heading to the Normandy coast that departed shortly. Raoul and Genny found an inconspicuous place to rest in the station, while I searched the stalls. Most of the vendors had closed for the evening, but a few small shops were open. I desperately wanted to change, but I was only able to find and purchase a few quilted blankets from a stall, which I draped around my shoulder.

The lights in the station were dimmed. Beyond them, framed by a wall of windows, the last lights of the city seemed to flicker on and off, just like the stars. Once I let my eyes closes half way, finally succumbing to my exhaustion. The shimmering lights blurred into a faint glow peeking beneath my lids.

I was back on the stage, with the lights of the auditorium dimmed. I stood alone and vulnerable, waiting for what I knew would happen next.

_"Well done, Persephone..." _

That other wordily voice, hypnotic and demanding. The memory of that voice seemed to pull at me, as if leading my steps towards it. Away from the train station and back to the calm yet spectral lights.

_"Persephone..."_

Back to the opera house.

_"Christine..."_

Back to the underworld.

"Mademoiselle?" This voice was different and it was accompanied by a tug at my dress. My eyes flew open and my body stiffen with a jerk.

I saw the withered hand of an old man, sitting in the shadows. He flinched backwards as I directed my gaze to him.

"Didn't mean to frighten you... I was wondering...could you spare." he stuttered more afraid of me than I was of him.

The train whistle signaled its arrival. His face fell as he realized he would not get any help from me. Instead I turned my attention back to him, with drawing another folded set of bills from my bag.

"Here." I offered it to him. He gazed in amazement, just touching the edge of the bills with his fingers. "And this." I handed him the pocket watch, placing it in his other hand. "I don't need them anymore."

"Bless you." he was crying at his good fortune. I turned to leave. "You...you are an angel."

I stopped, glancing over my shoulder. He looked stunned as if I would recollect my gifts from him. I only smiled.

"I am no angel. I am just...Christine."


	38. Epilogue

"The opera ghost really existed."

This was the last line in my diary. The last line I would probably ever write in it.

The chilled wind from the ocean shore was blowing fiercely this October night, rattling the windows of the house as it past. With each gust that assaulted my ears, I could sense the ghosts of my past calling out to me. Particularly one.

The fire had almost disintegrated into embers. The light in my room had become so low that I only realized how much it had strained my eyes when I finally pulled away from my writing. I couldn't even see the hands on the clock, but I knew the hour was late. Perhaps one maybe even two o'clock. I hadn't been sleeping well since we left Paris.

None of us would ever be the same, but now here we were at least safe. Raoul and I had taken Genny back to the de Changy's Brittany estate. We lived still in a state of terror for a few weeks, frightened that the opera ghost would soon visit and seeks his revenge on us. By this point, Genny had been driven completely mad. The isolation in the cellars had sent her over the edge. She spent her days in her room or roaming freely around the manor house, softly singing to herself and constantly brushing her fingers through her hair and twirling a necklace at her throat. Most of it was gibberish, but often I hear a garbled tune from Faust, letting me glimpse into her madness. She still felt she was singing that night at the opera, the starring role of Marguerite. A role I feared, she would play for the rest of her life.

Raoul made a brave effort to keep his disappearance and his sister's madness quiet. There were only a few devoted servants on the estate some of whom had help raise the two de Changy children after their mother had died. Their loyalty was unquestionable so they did not pry as to why their master had returned suddenly, accompanied by his mad sister and another woman.

Raoul had begged for me to stay with him at his home and I obliged him for a while. Yet I still felt that Erik was lurking in every shadow, just waiting to claim me once more. The thought that plagued my mind was if Erik somehow managed to find me, would I go with him willing to spare my friends once more. My resolve was to never return to the opera or to Erik. Even in those moments of weakness when my body ached for his caresses and when my ears yearned for his music.

So I wrote instead. I placed all my conflict and my heartbreaks on paper. Maybe years later I would look back and laugh at how foolish I was. Or re-read my experience and be consumed with grief once more. There was no music here. I think Raoul and I found it both too painfully. I insisted finally that I find my own lodgings. Raoul offered a small cottage that rested among the de Changy's land holdings. It was nestled between the forest and high enough that I could look down out my bedroom window and see the lights of the town and the lanterns of the fisherman's boats. Raoul visited every day and did his best to make sure I was provided for. Yet I sense as he departed my company to reluctantly return to his home, one unspoken question still remained on his lips.

His proposal.

How could I accept it? I had dragged him through hell and back. I was responsible for the tragedy that had befallen him as his family. Yes I had saved him in the end, but how would marrying me be a suitable reward to him? Who deserved so much more than I could offer him. I had told him on several occasions that my refusal was not because I still had feeling for Erik. I assured him that I would never betray him and risk our lives to return to Paris. But I insisted that I felt the best thing for both of us was to remain as we were before all these terrible events. The only promise I gave was that I would consider it when I had forgiven myself.

But that could take a long time, possibly forever. It would not be fair to try to hold onto Raoul's heart when I was not worthy. There was another reason that soon I would no longer be able to conceal. I had removed Erik's wedding ring a long time ago, but there was no a piece of him with me that I could soon no longer deny.

I rubbed my eyes and checked the entry in my diary. October 30, 1882. It had been almost 3 months since we had escaped Paris. For all the exhaustion and anguish I had experience since then, I had blamed it on my nerves and emotions. Even on my laziest of days, I felt with the overwhelming need to sleep. While I tried to rest, my mind never did embrace the sweet call of sleep very often. I lied awake at night, sweating and shivering in turn, haunted by nightmares that visited me even in my wakefulness.

I did my best to hide my illness from Raoul who was already consumed by his own more pressing problems. At times, I feared for my life and wanted to seek a doctor. In the same thought, I was consumed by the saddening feeling that it would be a blessing for me to die. But it was not death that was stalking me.

My symptoms decreased and I finally snapped out of my delirium and recognized these changes for what they were.

I closed my diary and backed away from the desk. The wind rattled the windows once more, as if crying out for me to confess my secret. I held my arms over my abdomen, trying to comfort myself and the small life I held inside me. Raoul had been the perfect gentleman to me, never once using his position or letting his feeling towards me cloud his judgment. He had barely kissed my hand though he longed to do more. So I knew that the child I was carrying was not his. I would be a mother to a fatherless child and any hopes Raoul had of marrying me would be shattered. I could not let him do such a thing. I would not ruin him further. But mostly, I think the idea that I choose Erik over him, that I traded my most sacred virtue for his life in this way, would destroy him.

Erik had not really left me. I had resigned myself to love this child, despite its parentage. I had to soon make plans to leave this place and make my own way, despite any protests. I could not bear to bring any further shame on Raoul and his family.

The unknown frighten me. I clutched my diary to my chest and stared into the dying fire. Between the lines of my mad ramblings and indecision, I had outline everything that had happened to me over the past year. I made plain the hidden truths about Erik. That he had abducted me, driven my friend to madness and murder. He was an accomplice in the death of Carlotta. He had been responsible for the gruesome murder of Frederich. I had no doubt in my mind that he had caused the demise of Philippe de Changy and that he had made the chandelier fall that fateful night. He had imprisoned Raoul and his sister and was guilty of many more crimes that I could not detail on paper. And then there was what he had done to me. Broken me down through his lies, deceit and most horribly his love.

I had an address that had been lying on my desk for weeks. It was for the inspector who had contacted me after the murder of Frederich. He had suspected I knew more and I was ready to confirm his suspicions. I had everything I need to mail it off to him. He would have a confession but more importantly, I had recorded the entrances to the opera cellars, all the secrets I could remember including the old dungeons, the entrance on the Rue Scribe and the house by the lake. With one act, I could right all of Erik's wrongs and at the same time doom him to an imprisonment worse than the one he inflicted on himself.

I had only sought to love him. When the truth was revealed and my eyes became open to his horrible past, I did not become repulsed but only thought that in some small way, my love would save him from his misfortunes. I had given him that small hope, that brief time of happiness and then I abandoned him once again. I recalled that night in the carriage when Erik told me of the horrors of being displayed in a cage. As much as I loathed what he had done to me, I still loved him too much to cause him suffering like that once more.

I let my diary fall from my grip into the fire. It's brittle pages stoked the embers as they quickly lit up at once, bringing a roaring flame and heat into the room once more. I would be the keeper of my own secrets and of Erik's. With luck, no one would remember what had happened to us.

Not even our child.

I went to the window, being called once more by the ghostly sounds of the wind. I let my shoulders relax as I sighed, feeling a great burden lifted from me. My hands found the edge of the curtains as I felt a strange longing to look out at the lights of the lanterns and the coast one more time before going to bed.

I opened the curtains and two glowing yellow eyes starred back at me from amidst the darkness.

The End?

*Dodges the rocks and rotten fruit pelted in my direction* Yes a cliffhanger!

Is it Erik or Christine just seeing things? I'll let you the reader decide.

Just be glad that Erik made it through this fic alive(?) since I have a nasty habit of killing him off. However my body count stands at four as this end so nothing to brag about here. Yes I have thought about a sequel but I think leaving the end up to your imaginations is much more exciting that anything I could conjure up. Plus I have a long list of other thinks to work on, AU drabbles, steampunk, etc.

Thanks so much for reading this and for the brave souls who stuck with it even after my long absence. I apologize for my mistakes in the earlier and later chapters since I was without a beta and I tried to edit as best I can. If you liked this story tell your friends, share it on your blog. It would mean a lot to me. If you didn't like this story well you're a glutton for punishment for reading it till the end.

Hopefully I will start posting brand new Phantom phics soon. Until next time dear readers, I remain your obedient servant, P.C.


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